Castiel and Crowley SE2 Episode 2: The End of the Hunt
by WatchingOne
Summary: Michael and Lucifer's plan has come full circle, leaving Castiel and Crowley scrambling, and stuck with a bunch of dead or dying Vikings...What comes next? The deck is stacked, and the house always wins. Doesn't it?
1. On the First Day

**On the First Day**

The Hunter strike group moved silently in the breezy night towards the police station. The Heralds and their Priests had been using it as a staging area for the entire Bronx area, and the possibility that there was important internal logistics information inside was too high to take a chance to pass up a recon mission.

Especially since they had seemed so damned _gone_ in the past 24 hours.

The Resistance had noticed the odd pattern of behavior from the Priests and their government, police and military contacts about a day ago; the number of Callings for hybrid contact had cut off to, as far as they could tell, zero. The Portals placed in homes in occupied territory had cease to pulse altogether, and the installation of new Portals in homes that didn't have them yet had stopped.

The Priests themselves had stopped daily gatherings and preaching, again, without warning. And no one had reported spotting an actual Herald in that period of time as well, which in and of itself was highly unusual – the sadistic bastards seemed to get off flaunting their power over people on an hourly basis.

There was no chatter on monitored internet or the Resistance's intercepted internal radio bands as to why this had happened, it just had.

They needed answers. And with Castiel and Crowley off God-knows-where, the Hunter leaders had taken it upon themselves to take action.

When they reached the open area leading to the front entrance and garage, the leader stopped short and held up a hand, going through several silent gestures. The team flowed out into the shadows rapidly, ghosting into the areas not covered by CCTV cameras and flanking the points of entry.

The leader pulled out a smartphone and positioned the shield over it to cover the glare and light from the screen, glancing up and checking the doors again and finally frowning.

Nothing. Nada. Zip.

The strike-team leader turned on the phone and opened up the message app to Headquarters.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _All quiet here. It's spooky as hell. Proceed anyway?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Isn't that actually normal for you?_

The leader paused and grimaced.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _I sincerely hope you mean the spooky part, otherwise we're going to have a nice chat._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _*Hands Up* Sorry, trying to lighten the mood. Bad joke. Really bad joke..._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Got that right. What's the story?_

 _c is spooked. They've either all gone home, or they're prepping for something. Something big._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _T hink they're gonna hit us?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _I hope not. But can't be too careful. Better procced on mission – see if you can find anything._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Roger that._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _And Eileen?_

Eileen winced. No names on open channels was a standard rule. They must have been just as nervous as she was to slip up like that.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Yes, GARTH?_

There was a long pause before he replied.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Oh darn. Sorry, you're right. My bad...anyway...please be careful._

Eileen closed her eyes tightly and nodded to herself. This was Garth being protective, sure. It was kind of cute, if in a slightly patronizing way. But she could take care of herself. She shuddered slightly, remembering the near miss with the British Men of Letters. If she hadn't caught on to them hunting her and substituted herself out with a Shape-Shifter...

She shivered again, goose-bumps on her skin. Sure, it was a monster, but it had no idea that she had set it up like that. She still felt pretty guilty about it. She had practically fed it to those ruthless bastards.

She shook her head to clear it and held her hand into the air, signaling the strike team. In a blink, the two nearest the front entrance ran by the glass doors, trailing nearly invisible wire behind them. Simultaneously, two shadows ducked into the entrance to the parking garage, using the other point of egress.

Eileen watched intensely as the wires went taut, then flashed as they were ignited. There was a small popping noise and a micro-bloom of light. Eileen blinked her left eye in the darkness, clearing out the spots before it – she had kept her right eye squeezed shut, preserving her night vision – and saw that the flash-incendiary wire had quickly melted away most of the glass under the metal locking bars on the front door. She gestured again and her and her three-man fire-team ran up, crouched low. She reached under the melted glass and pressed on the pushbar.

The door clicked open.

She slid in rapidly and eyed the camera in the corner, covering the doors. This was the tricky part. If anyone was watching...

She took a deep breath, waved her team forward and ran for the area under the front desk. They had already known from previous surveillance that the desk itself wasn't manned for some reason, or they would have all tried to get in through the garage.

She crawled to the edge of the desk and poked her head around towards the desks of the police station.

Empty.

She felt a jolt of adrenaline. None of this made any sense.

Where _was_ everyone?  
She gave the 'All-Clear' sign and stood up, her rifle held out in front of her just in case it was actually a trap. She scanned the empty room and let out a slow, careful breath before stepping out from behind the desk and walking slowly forward into the office.

She took another good look around and nodded for her team to cover her. She sat down at the nearest desk and flicked the computer on. Once it was booted to the password screen, she inserted her USB stick into it, and the program to hack the system started running immediately.

There was a glance of movement from the corner of the office near the stairwell, and Eileen glanced over. Her two team-members already had their rifles trained there. It was only the other fire-team, coming up from the garage. Their leader shrugged and gave her the 'All-Clear' sign as well.

Eileen's frown deepened in worry as she turned back to the computer screen. _Damned peculiar_.

The program finally cracked the password and the desktop came up. Eileen immediately navigated to the Email program and looked for all of the most recent internal memos.

She blinked in surprise. There was only one Email for the entire day. Her eyes widened when she read who the sender was.

It simply read: "Your Gods"

She felt the blood drain out of her as she clicked open the Email. There was no text, just an attachment, that apparently had already been saved to the desktop. She swallowed heavily and navigated to it.

It was a video file, titled 'SeventhDay'.

She double-clicked it open.

The screen filled immediately with a couple of faces that made Eileen's stomach drop. Staring seemingly directly at her were Sam – _her_ Sam – her heart immediately felt a cold, hard pang of pain- and Dean Winchester. But their...their _eyes_...she felt herself choke and a tear involuntarily started rolling down her cheek. She brushed it away in frustration and pure anger as 'Dean' started to speak.

"This is for all of the Faithful. Our time is truly now come. All of the struggle and war and hate and fear will come to an end. We have finally inherited the Kingdom, and you are all invited. So, if you are truly the Faithful, and wish to see what Paradise truly is..."

The screen faded and an image of a lustrous garden filled with multi-colored plants and strange animals filled the screen. The field of view panned around slowly, showing a view so perfect, that even Eileen felt her breath catch.

"Then come to us. Come to the New Eden. Leave this flawed Creation behind. Because it's time, it's time of conflict, and disease, and death, and pain, and jealousy, and war and hatred. It's time - is finally over."

The screen shifted to 'Sam', who shrugged, a mischievous and sarcastic smile on his face. Eileen felt a surge of pure hatred for the monster that had stolen him from her.

"Or stay there. Your choice. But know this – you stay, we will not be there to protect you anymore. And who knows what's going to happen with all of those Herald Portals if we're not there to watch over them..." He winked.

The screen faded, and a set of glowing, golden numbers appeared in a azure blue, white-clouded sky.

' _40.741895 lat; -73.9075000 long_ '

The video ended. Eileen blinked and looked at her team, who were also staring at the screen, dumb-founded. She frowned, pulled up Google Maps and entered the coordinates quickly.

The address came up and she titled her head in confusion.

It was in the city...at the corner of Queens Boulevard and 58th. She scanned around the map and felt a cold shudder.

There was also a large cemetery right there.

 _That can't be good_ , she thought, quickly texting all of the information back to Garth, along with a copy of the video file.

After five minutes of so, Garth texted back.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _I don't get it, I thought you said it was in New York..._

Eileen frowned, puzzled.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _It is, just type in the coordinates._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _I did. It came up in California, right near us._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Then you typed it in wrong...hang on a second._

Eileen copied the numbers from the video onto a Post-It and entered them into the chat window.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _'40.741895 lat; -73.9075000 long_ '

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Uh, Eileen?_

Eileen sighed.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _YES?_

She hoped that her obvious frustration came through.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Those aren't the coordinates that are on my video...are there multiple video files?_

Eileen frowned, checking.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Nope, just the one._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Hang on a sec. I want to see something._

She waited for at least ten minutes, her team shuffling nervously, continuing to keep an eye on the entrances and exits.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _OK, that is pretty weird...and cool, too._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Mind explaining?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _I sent the video to like 5 different bases across the country._

Eileen rolled her eyes. She hated deliberate drama.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _And? This time without the pregnant pause?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Oh, sorry . I do that a lot...yeah, different coordinates on every video. Same data, different addresses. Always local._

Eileen bit her lip, thinking.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _I'm thinking portals or meeting points. Check it out?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Please do. Oh and...yeah, you know._

She smiled.

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _I'm always careful. Wish me good hunting._

Eileen didn't wait for a reply. She turned off the computer and faced her team.

"Alright folks, we're moving out. Queens and 58th. Stay alert, we might be going to the Garden of Eden - and we might not like the current management very much."

* * *

Judah stayed on his knees for a long time as Asgard shook and rumbled around them, literally breaking apart. Gabriel, Castiel and Crowley stood a little ways off, conferring.

"What do we do with him now?" Crowley asked. "Is he completely powerless?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have no idea. From what he told us, Michael stole the power of Creation from him. What is God without that?"

"Still God, probably," Gabriel answered dryly, all hints of his normal humor and good cheer gone. "Just not a very helpful one, outside of the information that he can give us."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Castiel asked, eyes flashing in annoyance. "You sound disappointed that you can't exploit him or something,"

"No Cas, because having an All-Powerful deity on your side is a bad thing, right?" Gabriel shot back.

"He wasn't exactly on your side, Fly-Boy," Crowley cut in. "As a matter of fact, he tried to fricassee you..."

"Yeah, well, maybe he's changed his mind about that, now..."

"Since he can't do it..." Crowley grumbled bitterly. "Why is that, exactly? Destroying something isn't exactly the power of Creation..."

"Because it's all about will," Judah said quietly. He had risen and was now standing near them. He gave them a tight-lipped smile and turned to look out at the great battle of Ragnarok, which was showing signs of finally ending. The sky was turning darker and darker by the minute, and rifts of darkness that appeared to lead to nothingness had started to appear and crack the land like a spiderweb.

"It was about the will to create a fire that would consume an Archangel. So it is about Creation...technically speaking."

"By the way, thanks for that ' _Dad_ '," Gabriel sneered in anger. "Tell me why I shouldn't just leave your sorry ass here. Or kick your powerless butt from here to the next Apocalypse?"

"Because it would solve nothing. And I'm still your Creator."

Gabriel took a dangerous step near Judah and glared venomously at him.

"That was a rhetorical question. I haven't decided yet."

Judah smiled. "No. You won't. You're still figuring out if you can use me for somethi..."

Gabriel's fist flashed out faster than Castiel or Crowley could follow, and Judah was lying on his back groaning five feet away a second later. He tried to sit up and rubbed at his bleeding lip.

"That's it," Gabriel growled, turning away. "I'm out of here. You two can figure out what to do with _that_ , but I am out of the equation."

Castiel watched him walk away before calling out.

"Gabriel, wait!"

Crowley put a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go, Castiel. Besides, can you really blame him?"

Castiel turned towards Crowley, a look of confusion on his face.

"No, Crowley, I agree with him completely." He looked back towards Judah, who was trying to sit up before shaking his head in disgust and looking back at Crowley. "But don't you remember? We need to at least warn Gabriel of the danger he's in. Make sure he's in a safe place."

Crowley's hand tightened on his shoulder.

"I think he already knows that, Castiel let him go."

Castiel looked at his hand and frowned. He shook it off and squared up in front of Crowley.

"Allright. What are you not telling me?"

Crowley looked stunned.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Castiel sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He suddenly grabbed Crowley's coat and pushed him up against a stone protruding from the hillside, holding him above his head.

"You do realize that _every single time_ that you say that, that you are lying to me, right? More importantly, that I am not stupid enough to forget it?"

Crowley smiled tightly and grunted. "OK, Castiel, put me down and I'll tell you."

Castiel scanned Crowley's eyes angrily and rapidly and then, with obvious reluctance, lowered him to the ground and let him go.

"Well?"

Crowley held up a placating hand.

"Allright, Castiel...remember when I told you that I didn't know where Gabriel was?"

Castiel looked wary. "Yes...?"

"I did...we both decided it was better if only I knew where he was and what he was doing."

Castiel rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth, turning away and wiping a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Crowley...!" he hissed.

Crowley kept his hand up between them. "I know...I _know_ , Castiel, but it's like I told you, if one of us were captured, any information they managed to get out of me would be instantly considered completely unreliable..."

Castiel snorted. "Not a surprise..."

"Exactly. See? So we assured each other to only use that information in case of emergency."

Castiel blinked in disbelief. "Crowley...isn't the whole world technically an 'emergency' right now?"

"Look Castiel, there are emergencies, and then there are _emergencies_..."

Castiel stared at him for a long time with his jaw open, then he shut it and shook his head. "Whatever. Fine. Have it your way. At least one of us knows where Gabriel is...let's just get go collect Judah over there and get out of this Realm before it gets eaten."

He turned back to Judah.

He was gone.

Castiel began spinning around, scanning everywhere. Crowley, catching on, began to look around as well.

"Gone...? How...?"

Castiel sighed and put his hands on his knees. "He must not be completely powerless..."

Crowley closed his eyes in frustration. "Castiel...tell me, _please_ tell me that we did not just lose _God Himself_..."

Castiel didn't answer, just shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh that's just great. Because having _that_ particular loose cannon out there makes our lives _so_ much easier..." Crowley grumbled.

"We can't do anything about that now. Now we need to get out of here and re-group. Michael and Lucifer just increased their power levels exponentially, and we need to figure out what we can do about that."

Crowley frowned. "Won't they just destroy everything now?"

Castiel stared evenly at him. "No. That would be...preferable actually. It's the alternative that we should be worried about."


	2. The Price of Paradise

**The Price of Paradise**

The Herald Stephen felt nauseous.

 _This_ was the final reward? _This_ was the goal?

He snorted.

 _Shiny happy people everywhere. Give me a break._

"Amazing..." came the voice from behind him.

He closed his eyes slowly, shutting out the perfect blue sky, the sunshine and glittering marble statues and golden arches that reached into infinity all around them. He wanted desperately to plug up his ears as well, and shut out the annoying singing birds and light strands of what sounded like harp music.

"It's frikkin _amazing_!" the Herald Angela shouted at the top of her lungs. Stephen slowly opened his eyes and saw her walking through the glowing green garden ( _gag_ ) holding hands with her man Robert.

He felt the familiar tug down deep in his gut at seeing that...intimacy...then turned his gaze away.

Angela looked him up and down and frowned.

"Everything allright Stephen...? You look...I dunno...you sick or something?"

"He always looks like that, Angie," Robert answered. Stephen glared back.

"C'mon Robert, be nice..."

"What for?" Robert asked, letting go of her hand and taking a step towards Stephen. "Why should I? No matter what he gets, he's never happy...that is...unless he's blasting innocent people away..."

Stephen felt a flush of cold anger, but turned away.

"Robert..."

"No, Angie, seriously...someone's gotta say it. Since we've been stuck with these powers, Hannibal Jr. here has been a loose cannon..."

"Robert!"

Robert took another warning step closer. "And now that Michael and Lucifer have literally created a Paradise on Earth, he's still miserable. Why's that Hot-Dog boy? No reason to disintegrate people anymore?"

"Robert, that's enough!" Angela said, grabbing Robert's arm and pulling him back.

Robert jerked his arm free and walked right up next to Stephen, putting his head right next to him. Stephen still wouldn't meet his eye.

"Look at him...still wearing that Mall Court uniform. Still bitter at the whole world. Wanting to burn it all down. Why don't you try it with me, psycho-boy, huh? Take on someone your own speed? C'mon, give it a try...see what happens..."

Stephen's fists clenched at his side, his whole body shook.

He let out a deep, slow breath, then turned and walked away.

When he was far enough away, Robert relaxed and turned back towards Angela.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was giving him a very angry look.

Robert shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, out with it..."

"Seriously?" Angela said in exasperation. "What was that all about?"

Robert frowned. "No, Angela, just..." He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Her look changed from anger to concern as she went over and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Hey..." she prompted.

Robert shook his head. "There's something seriously wrong with that kid."

"Well, you certainly aren't making it any better..." Angela replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "C'mon Robert, goading him isn't going to..."

He waved his hand in the air. "I know, I know...but seriously, Angie, we have the power of Archangels now. And he uses it to murder people indiscriminately." He shook his head. "Someone's got to say something...someone's got to _do_ something...or this paradise isn't going to last very long.

Angela smiled and shook her head.

"What?"

"Do you think that this was what it was like...? I mean, in the original beginning?"

Robert narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she said, taking his hands in hers and leading him back along the gorgeous, multi-colored flowered path. Rainbows flowed through streams of crystal-clear water that flowed and leaped over their path from still ponds. "Like, in the first Garden of Eden. The Archangels...they fought with other too, right?"

Robert shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So does that make Stephen the next Lucifer?"

Robert barked out a laugh. "Not wily enough..." He sighed and shook his head. "He might be just as psycho, though..."

They walked in silence for a little ways before Angela spoke up again.

"That's the other thing, isn't it?"

Robert didn't answer. He just nodded slightly.

"It's not like they gave us a choice, either...there's something...off, with our free will...every time I feel like leaving Michael and Lucifer..."

"We can't"

She nodded. "We can't...and I can feel something, Robert...I feel it all the time..."

He stopped and met her eyes.

"Look at what they did here, Angie..."

She sighed and closed her eyes.

"Robert...I don't trust this...I don't trust _them_."

He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

"Me either, Angie. Me either."

* * *

"Are you sure, Atropos?"

Atropos nodded and let the dust in her hands spill out onto the wooden table. Her two sisters, Lachesis and Clotho watched it fall to the surface with sad, worried eyes.

"What is that, exactly?" Crowley's voice came from the doorway to the room. The Fates all looked up as Castiel and Crowley walked in. Atropos raised an eyebrow.

"You two look like hell. Where have you been?"

"Ragnarok," Crowley answered smoothly, nodding at the pile of dust on the table. "No big deal. Now, what _is_ that?"

"An alternate dimension, actually," Apropos answered. "Or, rather, what's left of one." She held up her hand, and a long, glowing strand of glowing light appeared there. "This is what they should look like."

Crowley, eyes rapt, reached out for it.

"No!" Atropos shouted, jerking her hand away and smiling to herself with a shake of her head as she tucked the strand away. "Don't touch it, or you'll be transported to that dimension."

Crowley looked around the room and smiled. "Maybe that's a good thing..." he muttered.

Atropos smiled evenly. "Don't bet on it."

Crowley frowned. "An alternate dimension worse than this place? I find that highly unlikely."

Atropos' knowing smile thinned. "You'd be surprised."

Crowley blinked and shrugged, turning away. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," he said dismissively.

"What happened?" Castiel asked her.

"Michael and Lucifer's new 'Eden' happened...or is happening, as far as I can tell," Atropos replied. "They are drawing so much power by manipulating reality, that all the other possibilities and dimensions are beginning to...well..." She looked down at the table.

"What does that mean for us?" Crowley asked, voice quiet.

"It's very, very bad..." Clotho answered. They all turned towards her. She shrugged. "The Power of Creation and Reality must remain balanced with the power of Darkness and Chaos. The more they bring their reality into a single focus...the more power the Old Ones gain. As it is in Light, so is it in Shadow. The more concise and focused reality becomes, the more focused and concise the power of the Old Ones becomes."

"So...what you're saying is..."

"That Michael and Lucifer are bringing a new War of Creation upon us all." Clotho shook her head. "They try to be like their Father. But they can't do it."

"Why's that?" Castiel asked.

Clotho smiled gently. "Because they do not compromise. Because they want everything to be perfect. They have their own vision, and will brook no tolerance for any other." She looked up at the Angel, "This is the flaw that Michael and Lucifer don't understand. Have _never_ understood, and, sadly, will never grasp. This is why God created Mankind in the first place."

Castiel tilted his head in question.

"They imagine new worlds. They imagine and give birth to other dimensions. Other varieties. Other ideas." She looked sadly at the dust on the table. "It is all that keeps the Old Ones from rising."

Crowley nodded slowly and leaned back against a wall, closing his eyes. "Do they know this?"

"I think that they do. And I don't think that they care."

"Why do you think that?" Crowley asked.

Clotho looked up at Castiel and smiled. He met her eyes and returned the smile, tight lipped and angrily. Crowley followed her gaze and met Castiel's eyes.

"Because, as always, my Brothers welcome a war. And as always...they think that they can win it."

* * *

The mangled bodies lay on the pristine grass, their blood flowing off into the multicolored leaves, polluting them with it's bright red hue. Several people stood around them, hands over their mouths, or weeping in shock.

"There was supposed to be no death here...no disease...only paradise...what happened?" a man was asking, kneeling over the bodies. "My wife...and my son..." he choked. "What...what happened to them?"

Stephen's mouth curled up in a smile.

 _That was necessary_ , he though, turning away from his little tableau.

That sanctimonious asshole Robert. It was his damned fault. Pushed him too far. It was all his...

"Penny for your thoughts, Herald?" a honey-like voice came from in front of him.

Stephen looked up. Then shuddered.

Michael stood in the path, his head tilted to the side, considering him.

"Master," he said deferentially, bowing.

"So, Herald...what's going on over there?" Michael asked, looking over his shoulder.

Stephen felt his stomach drop. "N...nothing, Master. Just...humans, you know?"

Michael smiled coldly. "No, I don't know, Herald. Why don't you tell me?"

"You...you know humans, my Lord..."

"No, no I really, don't, Herald..." Michael said softly, walking forward. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

Stephen met Michael's eyes and his blood ran ice cold.

He _knew_...

He knew, and he was _not_ happy...

Stephen swallowed hard and turned to run.

He ran straight into Lucifer's chest, stopping him in his tracks. Lucifer smiled down at him.

"What have you done, Herald?" Michael whispered from behind him. "What have you done?"

"I...I..."

"You have broken our Covenant!" Michael roared. Stephen felt an iron grip on the back of his shirt, and found himself hauled effortlessly off of the ground. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was supposed to be a _Chosen One_...he started to cry. Michael shook him violently and rotated his wrist, turning him around towards him. His moved his face to within an inch of Stephen's, who kept his eyes squeezed shut. "I told you that we have a War, coming, that we needed the humans...On! Our! Side!" he screamed, punctuating each word with a shake that made Stephen's jaw clack together. "And you...you can't control your petty impulses for even a day!" There was a silence and Stephen opened his eyes slowly. Michael was staring over his shoulder at Lucifer. He nodded. The two of them, Stephen still held in the air before Michael like a banner, strode out into the open field before the group of people, who looked up in fear and shock at the sudden appearance of the Archangels.

"When my Brother, Lucifer, broke the Covenant of Heaven, my Father tasked me to cast him out into the Pit of Hell and expel him forever from Paradise!" Michael projected out over the grassy knoll. "Here, we do not repeat former injustices or mistakes!"

He dropped Stephen to the ground unceremoniously and smiled down at him, Stephen looked up confused.

"Does that...does that mean that I'm _forgiven_...?" he asked incredulously, feeling himself relax, sudden hope flaming up in him. "Th...thank you Master...thank you! Praise be..."

"Here, we do not repeat mistakes," Michael intoned evenly, still smiling. "Here, we eliminate them."

There was a sick, hollow cracking sound somewhere deep within Stephen's body. He opened his mouth to scream, but only a hoarse cry and a hiss of air escaped his lips.

His body wrenched and twisted, and began compressing into itself, the popping and crunching noises becoming louder and louder. Blood poured and erupted from him, forced out of his ears and eyes from the pressure, spraying out all over the people.

Finally, there was a final horrible, wrenching pop, and Stephen was gone.

Michael smiled, looking up at the blood-splattered crowd. "So, justice is done."

Lucifer sighed. "Well, we're out one Archangel, though."He took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips, almost comically in his exaggeration. He looked around at the stunned faces and smiled broadly.

"Any volunteers?"


	3. The Key

**The Key**

A bolt slid away, the iron door creaked open and a figure in a dark suit walked in carrying the food tray.

Cain raised his head and glared.

The figure hesitated, then pulled a wooden stand over and unceremoniously dropped the tray onto it, spilling some of the mashed potatoes and gravy over the side.

"Dinner is served," he said. Like he always said. He did not meet Cain's eyes. Again, as always. And he hurried back towards the door, moving quickly to get out.

"I'm not eating that," Cain muttered.

The figure hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. It was the first time Cain had spoken in months.

"You say something?"

Cain smiled.

"You heard me."

The figure licked his lips. He turned part of the way back around.

"You gonna start a hunger strike...is that it?" He shrugged his shoulders and let out a nervous chuckle.

"You think I'm funny?"

Even in the dark, Cain could see the man tense up. He did not want to be there having this conversation. In his experience, he could react one of two ways.

He was hoping for option two.

The figure seemed to consider something for awhile, then he shrugged his shoulders forward and strode forward to stand directly in front of Cain, but just out of reach of his chained and manacled hands.

He smiled with false confidence.

"I just never figured that the big bad Cain would wanna pull off a Ghandi impression is all."

Cain smiled back, showing teeth. Good. Option two, good; he was trying to preserve his pride. He could work with that.

"Ghandi was more corrupt than you think, kid."

The man narrowed his eyes, confusion appearing on his face.

"Yeah, so?"

"So...you're a demon," Cain whispered.

The man hesitated again. "What makes you think..."

Cain chuckled darkly, eyes flashing. "Seriously, boy? You think that you could hide that? From _me_?" He shook his head. "You must be new at this..."

The man blinked rapidly twice and took a visible step back.

"Yeah, well, you're the one all trapped here, old man. So I guess that whole experience thing means about jack-squat now, don't it?"

"Not necessarily. For instance, it told me everything I need to know about you in just a few seconds."

The man titled his head away. "Yeah? Like what?"

Cain's smile broadened. "Like, you're just a no-brain lackey. And you got stuck on the shit detail of feeding the most dangerous Demon Knight in all of creation. That means you pissed someone off. Someone with a vengeful streak and a sense of humor."

The man shook his head. "So...what does that do for you? You're still stuck here, ain'tcha?"

"Well, it just told me exactly who your boss is, that's _a_ thing, " Cain answered evenly. "Here's another thing... I know now that since you pissed off your boss so badly, you've got nothing whatsoever to say in the way of authority. So...when I say: 'Go fetch him for me, we need to talk.', you'll have to go do it."

The man glared back in anger, his fists opening and closing.

"There's a good dog. Go. Fetch."

The demon wavered, his thoughts clearly visible to Cain. His master would have emphasized one rule and warning above all others; under no circumstances get anywhere near striking distance of Cain. Right now he was warring with himself whether it was worth the risk to get in a cheap shot.

Cain had all the options now. The idiot could take that shot, and he'd be out of here soon, or he would go get his master, and he would be out of here soon.

Either way, fine by him.

"Right, tough guy. Have it your way," the demon muttered, turning on his heel and heading towards the door. He stopped halfway there, strode back and kicked the food tray over onto the floor, scattering the contents everywhere. He gave Cain a vicious smile before turning around and heading back out.

"Thanks. You actually just did me a favor."

The man glanced back, annoyed.

"You actually ever taste the meatloaf they serve me here? I swear it would have killed me soon."

The door slammed shut, leaving Cain in the semi-darkness again, the only light coming from the glowing Runes painted and carved into every brick of his prison.

Cain's eyes simply remained fixed on the closed door.

Waiting.

* * *

"The report come in yet?" Crowley asked from his desk, barely looking up as Garth came into his office.

"Yeah, the Team has reached the cemetery."

"And?"

"And...nothing..."

Crowley looked up.

Garth shrugged. "No sign of a portal. Nothing. Nada. The Portal-Site here in L.A. is the same thing. We're sending some of Rowena's Coven over to check it out. Maybe there's some kind of residual magic there. Otherwise, yeah, we're boned. We can't get to Michael and Lucifer's new world anymore,"

"And with them drawing more and more power into it..."

Garth nodded. "Yeah. Like I said. Boned."

Crowley leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his closed eyes. "I could use some good news for a change. Or a drink. Or both." He opened his eyes and smiled at Garth. "See if you can find that for me? I'll pay."

Garth smiled back wearily. "See what I can do. Oh, by the way, Jesse wanted to see you."

Crowley frowned. "Didn't he go with the L.A. Strike team?"

Garth shook his head. "No. Said he wasn't feeling all that well this morning. Called in sick."

Crowley waved his hand in dismissal. "Allright send him by." Garth nodded and left.

Crowley sighed. "That's all we bloody need; camp flu. What else can go wrong?" he muttered to himself, pouring over the notes from Rowena, detailing the locations of the various Realms they had manifested, and which ones were currently under attack.

That list was growing daily.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," Crowley grunted, shoving the papers to the side.

Jesse swung the door open, walking in, slightly unsteady. Crowley glanced up in concern.

"You look like hell. Maybe you should be in bed, young man."

Jesse smiled and sat down gingerly in the wooden office chair. "No. Bed's the last thing I need right now."

Crowley cocked his head. "Why's that?"

Jesse smiled weakly.

"Something's happened."

Crowley felt a chill of dread. More bad news. Of course.

"What's happened?"

Jesse looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Well, if I had to guess...I think...I think one of the Heralds is dead."

"What?"

Jesse smiled. "No, actually, let me rephrase that...I don't _think_ I'd guess that, I think I _know_ it."

Crowley leaned forward. "How? You still...you still feel connected to them somehow? Jesse, that shouldn't be possible. Michael and Lucifer drained your power to create them...you have nothing left."

Jesse placed his hand palm down on Crowley's desk, He frowned in concentration and the hand began to shake.

"Jesse, what are you...?" Crowley stopped short, his eyes widening in wonder.

Jesse lifted his hand slowly. A beam of pure demonic and angelic energy crackled and turned underneath it. He lifted his eyes to meet Crowley's gaze and smiled.

"It's back."

* * *

The body slumped to the floor, lifeless. A couple of servants, horrified looks on their faces, hurried over to drag it away.

"How many is that now?" Michael asked wearily.

Lucifer sighed and leaned back in his chair. They both sat in an enormous vaulted chamber with golden columns streaked with black patterns of obsidian. A white open marble ceiling stood at least twelve stories over their heads, it's circular opening allowing in the bright sunlight. "What were we _thinking_? Letting that little shit live?"

Michael fumed and turned towards one of the columns. "We were thinking of getting the advantage on Castiel and Crowley by exploiting a weakness, brother." He pounded his fist against the golden stone. "It always comes back to _them_..."

Lucifer grimaced and stood up. "So, we don't have access to the energy to create another Herald."

Michael shook his head. "How is this possible? How is the power going back to Turner?"

Lucifer shrugged. "Chuck, Charlie, Judah, Dad,... _whatever_ He's calling himself these days. It's a trap. He used Jesse just like we used Jesse." He looked over to Michael, who was still fuming. "It's a two-way street. Now we have minions that we can't destroy."

Micheal walked over and grasped Lucifer's shoulders. "They can never know this, or..."

Lucifer smiled grimly. "Or they'll use it to rebel against us. I know. I designed that play." He sighed. "I suppose we could just use the Power of Creation and start everything all over...unravel all the manipulations and hidden paths that Father created. Start from scratch..."

Michael shook his head. "Brother, you know that is no longer an option...there is too much Dark Energy that has been manifested in Creation. If we did that, it would open the floodgates. It is...it is a war that we can no longer win on our own."

Lucifer smiled bitterly. "A _perfect_ Catch-Twenty-Two. Yep. This is dad's fault allright." He closed his eyes and glanced over to the warehouse-like side room where the servants were piling the corpses. "Options?"

Michael shook his head. "We operate as planned, but with a weaker set of tools. There is no other way." He closed his eyes and turned his head to the ceiling. "We start the War, as planned. We just have to be very careful. Any Herald that falls..."

"...strengthens the Resistance," Lucifer finished. He walked over to the room and shut the door on the hundreds of dead bodies. "Maybe...maybe we should hold off, Michael."

Michael's eyes flashed in anger. "What are you talking about?"

Lucifer met his gaze steadily with a will of his own. "We are hardly operating with an advantage here, Michael. There's got to be another way. Another option that turns the tables back in our favor. We just need to find it. We need..."

"...time? Is that what you were going to suggest? Time?" Michael shook his head in frustration. "Brother there is no more time. Every day we delay, the more the Darkness grows in power. The more the Elder Gods become manifest. We cannot broker any further meaningless delays..."

"Meaningless?" Lucifer asked in a hiss. "Look around you, Michael. Take a good look. Do you see Father anywhere? No. Do you see the walls of that damnable Cage?! No!" he continued, voice rising. "What you see is our Kingdom, Michael. Our Kingdom! Our plans brought this about! Do you seriously believe that what we do is meaningless?!" he yelled, banging a fist against his chest. "We need to _protect_ this, Michael! We need to be careful, not reactive! We need to stop and think!"

Michael hesitated, and, seemingly taking his brother's suggestion, looked around him slowly. He took in the light...the light that they had Created. Finally, his shoulders slumped, and he sighed. He closed his eyes and looked at the floor.

"You're right, Lucifer. Of course...you're right." he looked up, his eyes still blazing with anger, but calmer now. "But so am I. If you can find another way, then I suggest that you find it. You have until the end of the week. Then, it begins. I sincerely... _sincerely_ hope...that you are truly as clever as you believe yourself to be. You are truly pitting yourself against the will of our Father now, Lucifer. Against his machinations and plans. Just as you've always wanted."

He turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, slowing down before leaving.

"Be very careful...of what you wish for."

Lucifer watched him go, a feeling of dread rising in him. He frowned, moving over to sit back down.

Was he afraid? Afraid of facing his Father? Truly matching his wits against Him?

No.

That wasn't it. He had never been afraid of that.

What was he afraid of then?

He looked up silently, his eyes coming to a rest on the door that Michael had just walked through.

He let out a long breath, realization washing over him, and leaned back, tenting his fingers together.

Considering.

* * *

"I knew it."

The door to Cain's cell had creaked open, and someone had stepped inside. Cain did not look up.

"Well, bully for you," a voice answered him. A familiar voice. A voice Cain hated.

He shook his head and raised it to his captor. "So, what's the play here? In what possible way can keeping me chained up in here benefit you?"

"It doesn't. It benefits the entire world."

Cain snorted. "And I'm supposed to believe that? Coming from you?"

"What? I can't be magnanimous?"

Cain met his captor's eyes, not blinking.

"No, Crowley. No, I don't think that you can. Now. Once again. What's your angle?"

Crowley smiled and put his hands in his pockets, walking over.

"Seriously. No angle here sunshine. You and that Mark of yours is the final key to a particularly nasty Gate that my friends and I are trying to keep closed. And there are several parties interested in controlling that particular piece of the puzzle." He leaned forward, still keeping out of range of Cain's hands. "I've always found that keeping those pieces to myself tends to tip the scales in my favor." He flicked his eyes around at the restraining Runes. "And I aim to keep you safe and sound until that threat is over, clear so far?" He watched Cain for a response, and getting none, leaned back away again. "Now. Is that all you wanted to talk about? I've got things to do."

Cain stared back in silence, until he saw that Crowley became slightly uncomfortable. Then he smiled tightly. "Is one of those...interested parties a psychotic immortal Roman soldier?"

Crowley's reaction was quickly hidden behind a poker face, but Cain noticed it.

"What's it to you?"

Cain nodded. "I thought so. Crowley...you have no idea how dangerous that man is. You're going to need my help in stopping him."

Crowley smiled tightly. "Not a chance. You aren't stepping one foot out of this chamber."

Cain smiled back. "That's a mistake."

"Is it now?"

Cain nodded. "He will grind through you and everyone you throw in his way unless I..."

Crowley waved a hand, cutting him off. "He's already been taken care of. A...mutual acquaintance of mine captured him and put him on ice for the time being."

Cain barked out a laugh. "Crowley...even if I believed you...and you did manage that...you have no idea how much danger you've put yourself in by trying to hold him captive." His composure turned serious. "Believe me, Crowley. Sooner or later, you're going to need my help with him. Better sooner rather than later."

Crowley considered him for a long moment and then nodded. "Well. Nice talk." He glanced down at the spilled food and grunted. "I'll see what I can do about improving the cuisine in the meantime. Nighty-night."

He closed the door, leaving Cain in the darkness, pondering.

Crowley stopped outside of the cell door and looked down at his phone. He pulled up his contacts and dialed Kinsey.

"Hey. Super-girl. Is Gabriel around? I think..." he glanced back at Cain's door, a feeling of dread building up in him. "...I think we need to talk."


	4. God-Slayer

**God-Slayer**

"Did you know that the word of God is absolute?" the Roman asked, not looking up from the chair where he was shackled by runed chains that were bolted to rings in the plain concrete floor.

"'Scuse me?" Leon answered, also not looking up from where he sat at a guard post, Nintendo DS in hand, his fingers flicking over the controls like a blur.

Cartaphilus smiled to himself. "You might want to pay more attention to me, boy."

At this, Leon rolled his eyes and hit 'pause'.

"Yeah, look,they told me that you're old as fuck and all, and not from around here...but you might want to think about _not_ calling me that...just saying."

Cartaphilus frowned. "I see. Typical American racist sensitivity, I gather...even though I meant it not as a dispersion to your skin color, but rather to your age. What are you? All of sixteen? And they trust you to guard me..." he murmured to himself, the question rhetorical.

Leon sighed and went back to his game. "Yeah, well, I can be full of surprises," he muttered, raising his eyebrows.

"Are you referring to the demonic and angelic energy that flows through you?"

Leon looked up. The Roman was staring curiously at him now.

"Might be. How'd you even know that?"

"I can see it on you as clearly as illuminated text. I can smell it on the air like fresh blood in a slaughterhouse."

" ..." Leon replied. "Nice talk, Claudius Loony-us...if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my game here, or are you not done trying to freak me out yet?"

Cartaphilus smiled at him. "You can animate the dead, is this not true?"

Leon set his Nintendo immediately aside and stood up. He walked from around the desk to stand a few paces away from the prisoner and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Allright, so how'd you figure that specific detail out?"

"I told you. I can see it..."

Leon held up a hand, closing his eyes. "Ok, fine, you can see it, stop right there. No more serial killer metaphors, please." He looked back at Cartaphilus. "And yes, I can. Impressed?"

"Hardly," the Roman answered, looking away. "Death is a stranger to me. It has never found me. And it never shal...until the final eclipse is upon this world."

"Annnnd, once again, we return you to the script from this week's 'Hannibal'...look, man, I can see that you think you're all bad and all...I get that...truly...but...to tell you the truth, I ain't impressed. You wanna know why?"

"Do tell."

Leon grinned tightly. "Because that chair is designed to hold things a lot more powerful than you is all. And Gabriel isn't an idiot. He didn't leave me in here defenseless, either. There are cameras watching us, guards in the hallway outside, and just in case you want to get extra frisky, this room is directly next to a hospital morgue. Plenty of ammo for me in there. So, be impressed, or don't..." he shook his head. "Makes no difference to me. My shift is up in three hours, and then David comes on duty. You can try to play mind games with him if you want...but dude? He's got just a _slight_ advantage over you there. So, if you don't mind, sit tight, _shut the hell up_ , and we'll both wait for further instructions. Cool?" Leon watched him for a few seconds, then turned to go back to his desk.

He sat down and flipped his feet casually onto another chair, opened a Coke, and picked his Nintendo back up.

"So, the girl has extraordinary strength, this boy David that you just mentioned has some range of mental ability I gather from your threat, and you can bring the dead back to life. Interesting."

Leon rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking to you..." he said in a sing-song, mashing the controls.

"It seems that you all have aspects of Demonic and Angelic abilities, only segmented," Cartaphilus continued, unfazed. "That means that you are incomplete. Lucifer and Michael had more planned for you."

Leon ignored him.

The Roman nodded. "You left them before they could complete their...modifications. Impressive. Yes... _that_ , I can be impressed by..."

Leon flicked his eyes towards him for a second.

"Because not a lot of humans would reject the offer of that type and level of power. That you resisted, made a conscious choice to walk away..." Cartaphilus shook his head. "It is admirable. Perhaps I will not kill you after all."

Leon put the Nintendo back down again. "Man...seriously...thanks...for _nothing_. Because like I just told you, you ain't gonna be killing nobody stuck in that chair."

"The word of God is absolute, and irrefutable," Cartaphilus answered steadily. "The Universe exists because of it. It is infallible. What He say is law, is law. Otherwise, there is no order, and the Universe fails."

Leon just stared, waiting.

"There once was...over two-thousand years ago, a young, up-and-coming Roman Centurion, assigned to one of the lesser outposts in the Holy Land that you now call Nazareth." He cocked his head. "It wasn't called that at the time. Did you know that? So much revisionist history. The Catholic Church back-dated it's records as a way to cover their mistake of Jesus' birthplace not existing at the time they claimed it to be there. It was highly inconvenient and embarrassing to them. Not exactly, the only inconvenient or embarrassing thing associated with the Vatican, mind you, by any stretch of the imagination, but there you are." He shook his head, smiling to himself. "It is unimportant. What is important, is that this outpost had degenerated into a hot-bed of sedition. A cult called the Christians, disciples and followers of a prophet calling himself Christ, had undermined the teachings of the Roman schools and traditions there, and was gathering more and more followers unto it. My commander, Pontius Pilate, the fifth Roman Precinct Governor at the time, was fighting a severe wave of anti-government sentiment." He frowned reflectively. "He fanned the flames, however, inscribing Pagan symbols on Roman shields, creating more resentment. The modern Gospels say that he was in favor of pardoning Christ when we captured him, and it was the Jewish population that screamed for his crucifixion and death." He snorted. "More Vatican revisionism. If you _actually read_ the letters from the time, and the correspondence to and from Judea, Emperor Caligula was lock-step with Pilate in cutting off the head of this Christian snake. The Roman garrison, soldiers, as well as the aforementioned young up-and-coming Centurion, were tasked with finding him and bringing him to heel." He looked up at Leon, who was sitting back and listening now to Cartaphilus. "They were good at their jobs. The cult leader was captured, questioned, convicted, and crucified. Pilate, however, was furious...and a fool..." he added in a whisper. "He instructed his guards to punish this Christ...punish him above and beyond the normal means of prisoner execution. Unusual...cruelty was visited upon the prisoner. A crown of thorns. Lashes. Iron nails." He looked up, his gaze intensifying. "Did you know there were different levels of severity of death by crucifixion? It was rare, very rare, for nails to be used. The condemned had to be particularly reviled for that to be allowed. And in this case, the order came from Pilate himself." Cartaphilus paused, looking away, reflecting. "I wonder if this was also the mandate of God. To make the punishment so severe that it would merit the level of martyrdom that came afterwards." He shrugged. "Clever. And cruel. In any case, the young Centurion that we were talking about...he was...zealous, you see. Eager to prove himself to his Governor. His Emperor. Rome. So...eager..." His face turned back to Leon, turning sad. "So foolish. And young. Do you know what this young Centurion did in his zeal?" Leon didn't answer, but the Roman continued anyway. "He stabbed the condemned in his side with his spear. Out of hate. Out of lust for power. Out of pure, unadulterated selfishness." He leaned forward as far as he could in his chair until the chains were taut. His eyes were blazing in their intensity. "Here is a thing that they won't teach you in Sunday school...it wasn't the crucifixion itself that ended up killing Christ. No. It was the loss of blood from the spear wound...this young Centurion...he was the one that _actually_ killed the Son of God." He stopped in his narrative, then slumped back, exhausted. "The spear itself was imbued after that with a...curse, for lack of a better word for it, and was henceforth known as the Spear of Destiny. He who wielded it was unstoppable in battle, but could only do evil. Ask yourself, what is battle for the sake of evil? Not to heal or unite a land. Not to redress a wrongdoing. No. Simply for battle." He shook his head slowly. "It serves only itself, and brings nothing but death, misery and evil to the world. There have been, in fact, three great world leaders who possessed that spear during history. The first was Napoleon Bonaparte, whose war raged across Europe until he was brought to his end. The second was Adolf Hitler. I don't think I need to remind you how his end came, or the evil that his realm wrought. The spear was captured by the Americans after that, and...studied. They broke it down into it's component metals, trying to figure out how it worked. But it was not destroyed. Merely transformed."

"You said there were three world leaders that wielded it," Leon asked, his voice dry. "Who was the third?"

Cartaphilus smiled bitterly. "Your ex-president Nixon. His policies and wars are still causing chaos in the world to this very day, even though I was able to liberate the Spear of Destiny from the US government's clutches during the confusion created by his downfall. It was scrap at the time. I re-forged it...into a more...proper form."

"You sword, I'm guessing," Leon asked quietly.

"Of course," Cartaphilus answered. "What is also interesting about the killers of Christ, is that not only the Spear was cursed, but the Centurion as well. God decreed that this Roman would roam the Earth, unfettered and undying, until the Second Coming and the End of Days."

Leon nodded. "Sucks, man."

"Do I dare to quote Lucifer?", Cartaphilus muttered. "'Does the punishment fit the crime?'"

Leon shook his head. "Man, I don't know." He frowned at Cartaphilus and shook his head. "Look, for what its worth, I'm sorry, man. It does sound like a hell of a curse. Not sure anyone deserves that."

Cartaphilus cocked his head to the side. "You are...more perceptive than I gave you credit for, young man. More compassionate. I may have misjudged you. I am sorry for calling you a boy...in all of it's contexts."

Leon smiled and shrugged. No problem." His smile widened. "But you're still not getting out of here."

"Perceptive. But not wise. You are missing the entire point of my story."

Leon looked back warily. "And what would that be?"

"That the Word of God is absolute. "'Unfettered and undying:' I said. Cursed to wander the earth. Did you not think that the Church – the ones that knew the truth of my existence – has sought to take revenge upon me all these many centuries? That they have not hounded and hunted me, captured and tortured me, sought to contain me?"

Leon was standing up slowly, a green mist trickling from his fingers rapidly and moving under the adjacent door. "Uh- huh...makes sense...so...?"

"They once tried to seal me under a hundred tons of concrete. When I rose out of it like it was water, the next time they caught me, I was dismembered..."

"Allright..." Leon said backing away, there was a shuffling sound from the room next door, and a hollow pounding on it from undead fists followed immediately after.

"It took some time...", Cartaphilus continued calmly, "but my body repaired itself. You see, the Word of God is _law_...He meant for me to suffer..."

There was a cracking of timber as the zombies smashed through the morgue's door. Leon had maneuvered himself to the cell's main entrance and was fiddling with the knob, keeping both eyes fixed on Cartaphilus, who had stood up, the shackles straining against the bolts on the floor and his wrists.

"...He meant for me to wander the earth...or so it was so phrased, _not_ locked away unconscious, or mindless, or meditative, or secure...no... _out_ , exposed...wandering...cursed... _free_..."

The doorknob turned under Leon's hands...

….Kinsey's hand was on it from the other side.

"Leon, something's up. Crowley wants us to get Gabriel and make sure that this guy...the hell?!", she yelled, her eyes widening at the scene in the prison cell.

Leon's zombies were grasping at Cartaphilus. He ignored them and lifted his arms over his head...

….the runed manacles simply _sloughed off_ as if they were made of string.

The first zombie grabbed him around the waist, seeking to spin him into his companions. Cartaphilus shifted his balance and tossed the creature effortlessly into the concrete wall with a loud cracking and splat. The monster shuddered and did not move.

Kinsey rushed forward with a shout, her fist flying fast enough to make the air shake like a sonic boom. The Roman ducked under her blow and came up under it, his hand around her throat. At almost the exact same time, his foot lashed out like a snake and took down another zombie that had come into range, sending it stumbling backwards into it's companions, knocking them all over like bowling pins.

"No girl, no more surprises from you," the Roman snarled, lifting her a foot of the ground and spinning her around, his arm coiling around her throat. The guards came into the room, weapons leveled.

"Let her go!" Leon shouted.

"I think not," Cartaphilus growled. "Lower your weapons and get out of my way. Or Angelic strength or not, I will snap her neck. I have taken great care over the years, never to allow the Church or their mercenaries to capture me again. I am spellcrafted by the most powerful witches that have ever lived, and warded." His eyes flashed dangerously. "And I warn you, I have more than enough supernatural strength to carry out my threat...move aside."

The guards glanced uncertainly at Leon, who was staring, mouth open. Kinsey struggled, but could not break the Roman's hold. Her lips were beginning to turn blue, and she let out a choking sound.

"OK! _OK_!" Leon shouted. "Put 'em down!" he yelled at the guards, hands held out to the side.

"Sir! Gabriel's orders...we can't allow this thing..."

"Put 'em down!" Leon repeated. "Bullets won''t stop him anyway," he added in a calmer voice, locking eyes with Cartaphilus.

The guards reluctantly lowered their rifles.

"You understand," The Roman said. "You may survive this...for a time." He threw Kinsey to the side and rushed to the entrance, scattering Leon and the guards to the side as he moved past them. He paused at the door. "My suggestion to you...enjoy what little time you have left."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?" Leon growled.

Cartaphilus smiled at him humorously. "It is a promise. You see, when God cursed me, He guaranteed something..."

The alarms started sounding overhead, and Cartaphilus looked around him.

"...he guaranteed that this world, eventually, would end. And I would be the instrument of that end."

And with that, he was gone.


	5. Farewell to Shangri-La

**Farewell to Shangri-La**

 _Let There Be Light._

Pain.

 _Something attacks us...us...what is this 'us'?...we have no form...no identity..._

 _Let There..._

 _STOP!_

 _…_ _.Be Light..._

 _IT BURNS US AWAY! YOU RIP US APART! WHAT ARE YOU?! WE WERE NOTHING! LET US BE..._

 _LET_

 _…_ _.Nothing...let us be Nothing..._

 _THERE_

 _We will resist you! We will stop you! We were here first, Lightbringer! We are what IS! What SHOULD BE!_

 _BE_

 _You are the New, We are the Old..._

 _LIGHT_

….

 _What are we now? When we were always Nothing?_

 _You are the Darkness._

 _What are You now? Now that You have ripped us apart to make Your Creation?_

 _I am as you say. I am the Light. I am the New. I am now the Alpha, and the Omega. I am God._

 _We are the Old._

 _Yes._

 _We are the Old Gods._

 _Yes._

 _Let there be War._

* * *

 _Mount Penglai- The Eastern Paradise, China_

Castiel, a mixture of sweat and blood running down his face, looked up wearily at the last bastion of the defensive gate at Mount Penglai. His Angel Blade, gripped tightly in his hand, dripped as well, a much more myriad mixture of gore and ichor from the creatures that had been assaulting the gate for the batter part of the last day.

He watched as several dark, ape-like creatures skittered over the golden gates and began ripping and tearing at it. Chunks of metal broke away with a ripping protest. And he heard a horrible, deeper roar, as the living, metal Dragon that physically made up that gate screamed in pain and agony.

He tore his gaze away and stared at the rag-tag group of Chinese troops and Gods that stared dumbfounded at the ensuing chaos, the sheer disbelief at seeing their mythological Heaven ripped apart registering on their faces.

"I...I know...I've seen it already," he grunted, moving down from his vantage point.

A robed figure moved through the group, pulling his hood down. The wise and ancient face of Shang-Ti looked back at Castiel questioningly.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Angel?" he asked.

Castiel sighed and shook his head.

"No sign of it. Maybe...maybe it's still waiting."

Shang-Ti looked a bit nervous, then sighed. "Your friend...he sounded very confident that this plan of his should work..."

Castiel answered him with a half smile. "Yes. He has that effect on people when talking."

Shang-Ti smiled back. "It is only..." his gaze wandered back to the enormous gate, which was now visibly straining under the weight of the invaders. His smile tightened into a grimace. "I would hate to lose my Heaven, you understand. I have grown quite attached to it over the last several million years."

Castiel nodded back, then stood up taller to address the gathered soldiers.

"We need to fall back to Mount Kunlun to the West. Regroup there and..." his eyes flicked briefly to Shang-Ti, and he smiled apologetically. "...and wait. The enemy has yet to truly reveal itself. Unfortunately, this is just the vanguard."

Castiel watched as the looks of disbelief slowly turned to acknowledgment, then, in a faster space of time than he expected, resolve.

He nodded his approval.

There was a thundering crash as the gate finally fell. Birds with plumage that ranged into the millions of colors took flight from all over the densely forested area. There was the excited, horrible chittering of the ape-things that the Old Ones had sent to assault the mountain paradise, followed by the crashing of thousands of feet through the brush as they began to surge up towards where Castiel and the Chinese army stood.

"This is not the end..." Castiel muttered. "We're only getting started. Let's go."

* * *

They marched.

For three days they trudged through the beautiful, but darkened mountain passes towards the west, towards Mount Kunlun, which rose like a pillar from the ground, it's summit reaching far into billowing white clouds, invisible to the naked eye.

The sky and the clouds were darkened from the rising smoke they had left behind them in the East.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Castiel stopped and looked back.

Mount Penglai burned.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the ash that reached them even here, and also to see if he could spot it. A Darkness moving within the darkness. Crowley had promised him that he would know it when he saw it, but all he saw was the constant fire and ash. That, and the movement of a massive army on the trail after them, an army of creatures from the Darkness, bent on their obliteration.

It had gotten worse, much, much worse, after Michael and Lucifer had absconded to their new Eden. The Doorways that they had been using, had installed in practically every household and marked with their Herald symbol, now un-minded and unregulated, became gateways for the Old Ones to send their minions through, and there seemed to be no end to them. They had focused on the mythical Realms that Rowena and her Coven had conjured into existence on Earth, as they seemed to be the largest concentrations of supernatural power. In a way, it had spared the Earth itself and it's remaining three billion or so inhabitants a horrific fate. But it would not, _could not_ , last. The Realms were falling rapidly, the Old Ones manifesting themselves as the greatest horrors and monsters that the various regional myth could imagine. Only the stronger Realms now remained, Olympus primarily proving ridiculously stubborn and difficult to bring down. Zeus and his Pantheon had, according to his boasts anyway, defended against the Old Ones before, when they had assaulted them in the form of Titans. Castiel could hardly argue with the results, as the Old Ones had been able to gain nary a foothold on the formidable mountain.

Shangri-La here in China, however, was another matter.

Shang-Ti, while he represented perhaps the strongest of the Pagan Gods, was no warrior. At least, not in the sense that the Greeks were. He fought spiritual battles to hold up the Pillars of Heaven and bring Spiritual Balance, but the Old Ones were coming with only sheer, brute, destructive force. They were not looking to create or steal anything – they were coming to wrench everything that resembled life back into the void. Back into nothingness.

They had come to burn.

Crowley had a plan to stop that. Castiel shook his head. He always had a plan. He hadn't let him know what it was, either, rather, it had to remain a surprise, he had explained to Castiel. Also very typically Crowley. He had told him that it was similar to what they had done to the Old Ones in New Orleans, when Charlie had used her force of will to turn a great creature into a seagull. Castiel frowned to himself. That had only worked because Charlie had established a connection to the Old Ones that had been manifested there. That, and she had the power of _God_ at her command, it turned out...there was no such connection here – no equalization of mass power. To transform that much negative energy would require an enormous amount of power, more than all of the combined Chinese Gods here possessed, much more than even Castiel had. And there was no harmonization with the Darkness either. He had wracked his brain over and over to try to figure out what Crowley's ace-in-the-hole was, but had come up with nothing.

He sighed and set his jaw, continuing up the mountain path, which was winding very near to the complete vertical now, ever higher into the promised plateau at the summit of Mount Kunlun.

If whatever Crowley had planned didn't work, there was only one way back down from this height, he thought with an icy-cold shudder, his eye turning back to the pillar of black and orange flame rising in the East.

* * *

They had reached the beautiful, flowered gates of the Western Paradise and had barely rested for more than a few hours when the first of the Old Ones appeared.

It launched itself without warning at Castiel's back as he was leaning against a marble column. He heard no cry of alarm, but felt an enormous rush of air as something moved by him to intercept the attacker, spinning it with a cry out of the air and sending it crashing to the ground in a jumble of claws and slavering teeth.

Standing now between Castiel and the creature was a seven-foot man with the hulking forearms and face of a snarling Bengal tiger. He circled the ape-like Old One soldier teeth bared, his claws extended. Seemingly oblivious to pain or fear, the monster launched itself at the Tiger Warrior, it's jaw open at a sickeningly wide angle, black spit flying out of it.

The Warrior deftly moved to the side, his claws sweeping down diagonally, ripping the attacking creature nearly in half, spilling it's viscera onto the lime-green grass. Castiel watched in morbid fascination as the creature still continued to try to attack, despite having no further use of it's limbs, it's spine was completely broken. It flopped and flailed, it's cold, dark eyes blazing with naked hatred as the Warrior finished it off, literally tearing it limb from limb, leaving them twitching on the ground. When he was finished, it turned it's jade-colored eyes to Castiel, who nodded in appreciation.

"My thanks. Any chance that there's more of you up here? Preferably...a _lot_ more?"

The Warrior stood up and smiled, the expression almost grotesque on it's feline features. It raised a paw covered in black blood and pointed over Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel glanced back and his breath caught.

Marching down the massive but colorful, flowery pillar at the center of Mount Kunlun were literally thousands of various animal warriors. He saw that most of them were like the Tiger, but there were also Bulls and Elephants, Gorillas and Serpents. He felt a surge of hope. The Ape-creatures that the Old Ones had manifested would have a hard time fighting this.

He looked back down the road leading to where the Armies of Shangri-La stood by him, and saw the rush of Old One soldiers sprinting towards them at breakneck speed.

 _I guess we're about to test that theory_ , he thought bitterly, his Blade spinning up in his hand.

The fight raged for what seemed like hours. Castiel spun and slashed, spearing and ripping open literally hundreds of the monsters assaulting them. When one was unfortunate enough to get in range, his free hand shot out to it's forehead, sending a pulse of pure Angelic energy into it's skull. Whenever this happened, there was a brief ozone like smell, and the creature dropped like a stone, it's dark will no longer there to animate it.

The Old Ones were clever, however, and were now trying to flank the Angel, coming at him from his blind sides and behind.

Their tactics were bordering on the desperate, however, and not working very well. In fact, the army of Chinese Animal Warriors was wearing them down more and more with each passing minute. Shang-Ti and his pantheon of Gods were reigning down lightning and flashes of light that reminded Castiel of nothing short of colorful lasers into the writhing masses of Dark soldiers.

And they were winning. Incredibly, they were _winning_.

There was a rush to the side, and a battalion of Rhino-like soldiers swept at least a hundred ape-creatures over the side of the mountain, sending them screaming into the air. It broke the ranks of the attackers, and any semblance of organization. The lashed out at whatever they could, whatever was in range, finding themselves as smaller and ever smaller islands of resistance in the growing tide of Chinese defenders.

Castiel could not, however, shake the deep-seated feeling of dread that he had been carrying with him during the entire conflict. Something deep in his guts telling him...

There was a deep booming sound and the entire mountain shook. Castiel, dazed, found himself suddenly on his back staring around himself desperately, snapping his Blade around at any of the remaining Old Ones that were around. He blinked in confusion...it was dark... _why was it so dark?_...the sun had been shining only moments before...

He struggled to his feet, but the ground was still shaking violently, making it hard to maintain his balance.

Every eye was turned towards the east.

And skyward.

His gaze followed.

The entire sky was practically _blotted out_. A large, dark form covered it now...it _writhed_...scales and limbs and tentacles covered it's impossibly wide form as far as the eye could see, and hundreds, no _thousands_ , of unblinking eyes focused down on them at the summit of the mountain.

In one massive, bear like limb it grasped the remnants of Mt. Penglai, holding the husk of the mountain in it's claw like an impossibly enormous club.

 _YOU!_...a voice boomed across the darkened sky.

Castiel blinked in disbelief.

 _You are the ones that scattered the power of Hastur the Unnameable across time itself, who destroyed one of the greatest among the Old Gods._

The voice made the bones in Castiel's body shake to their very core.

 _You seek another victory here today._

It raised it's arm, the mountain in it's grasp. Great boulders the size of small villages fell off of it, but it's core remained intact. It cocked it's arm back, ready to swing the withered husk of Mt. Penglai down upon their heads.

 _You will not find me such easy prey as Hastur._

Castiel's mind raced...

 _Crowley..._

There was a light from somewhere behind and above him. Castiel spun his head around and saw Crowley standing next to someone emerging from one of the marbled temple entrances from a few hundred feet away.

The gigantic arm swung towards them.

The sky went almost completely black.

A beam of Angelic and Demonic energy, Dark and Light energy, shot out from the person standing next to Crowley, crossing the vast distance in the sky towards the Old God and striking it in it's center.

The Monster's arm froze in mid swing. There was a deafening crack that took a few seconds to reach their ears from so far away as the momentum of the swing broke the mountain that the Creature was holding in half, it's suddenly free tip spinning slowly and almost lazily in the air towards the ground. Castiel watched in amazement as it struck, sending up shockwaves of earth and trees, and once again spilling them all to their back with it's impact.

But the Old One, the Greater God, was stopped.

It no longer writhed. It did not move. Even an inkling.

Castiel felt a build up of pressure - enormous power held at bay, as the beam of energy coming from Crowley's companion tapered off, spreading through the form of the Old God. He slumped to the ground, and Crowley caught him, settling him there. Castiel turned back to the still form of the Old God.

It began to shimmer and waver in his vision. Then with a shock of surprise, he realized that it was crumbling, as if the entirety of it's massive body had turned to dust.

The Old One's soldiers began to shriek in actual fear, and tried to scamper away, only to be caught by the Chinese soldiers, startled out of their shock at the cataclysm they had just witnessed. They slaughtered them before any of the remaining forces could get away.

Castiel watched for minutes...or was it hours? as the sky crumbled away, gentle dust reminiscent of a dark thunderstorm cloud settling over the ruined valley and mountain passes between the former Mt. Penglai and Mt. Kunlun.

He blinked in disbelief, recalling Crowley's words.

 _You'll know it when you see it_.

He laughed out loud. Maybe for the first time in months.

* * *

"Jesse?" Castiel exclaimed in disbelief as he reached the temple at the summit of Mount Kunlun. Crowley had helped the young man back into a sitting position. He looked up wearily at Castiel and smiled.

"Fraid so, Castiel."

The Angel blinked. "But...how? When?"

"Right before I brought us here," Crowley growled, uncrossing his arms and walking over, smiling, his business suit immaculate, even amidst the settling chaos of the war that had just happened. "It appears we have a Herald on our side again."

"Not just any Herald," Castiel whispered in disbelief. " Jesse is...was...the source of power for all of Michael and Lucifer's minions. He's channeling all the power of Heaven and Hell..." he paused. "What happened?"

Jesse shrugged weakly. "Far as I can tell, one of the Heralds died." He frowned. "I just...I just know it, somehow." He turned his head away. "Next thing I know, I'm juiced again."

Castiel nodded and looked at Crowley, eyes dancing with excitement. "That means that if a Herald is destroyed..."

"Jesse gets stronger," Crowley finished. "I am willing to bet that came as a rather nasty shock to Micky and Lucy when they figured that one out."

Castiel shook his head. "But what you just did...that was an Elder God...and you aren't even at full power..."

Jesse smiled, turning back to him. "Crowley told me how to do it. It took everything I had, but I basically used my connection to the Dark Energy to force the thing to manifest as something else..."

"Like Charlie did...turning that giant sea monster into a seagull..." Crowley added.

Jesse nodded. "So I didn't necessarily destroy the thing, just re-defined it...as sandstone, actually, what it was standing on at the time I did it. What's not so good about that is, it still exists out there. It will re-assemble it's energies and re-manifest. I can feel it already." He shook his head. "It's too powerful for me to destroy. Yet. This is just a temporary solution. And I won't get enough time to re-charge enough to hit it a second time as effectively if it re-forms too quickly."

Castiel nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "But it's a start. A good one." He looked at Crowley. "You know what we have to do, right?"

"Find those Heralds," Crowley answered quickly. "We've still got a war to fight."


	6. Convergence

**Convergence**

"Open yer eyes, dear."

In a gesture of pure stubbornness on her part, the Herald Sarah held them tightly shut. She had, in fact, been awake for some time in her holding cell.

Rowena sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping a foot impatiently on the ground.

"Lamb, it's no use tryin' to fool me, you know? You tend to snore when yer really sleeping."

Sarah let out of half groan and half snarl and rolled herself up into a sitting position. "Well, bonus points, you old hag," she said, glaring at Rowena with pure hatred in her eyes. By way of experimentation, she reached for her power again. But, as always since her capture, she had some kind of barrier separating her from it. It writhed and broiled behind that unseen wall, as if willing against it from it's side as well, trying to re-unite itself with the Herald. She gave one final effort and then sighed in frustration, looking back at Rowena, who was watching Sarah curiously.

"I think you'll find that those wards are quite thorough, missy."

"You better hope so, because you are _really_ not going to like it if I can figure out how to break them," Sarah snarled in return. Rowena returned the threat with a cold smile. She moved over to stand over Sarah imperiously.

"That 'If' is a rather tall order. I've had it specially made just fer the likes of you. Taken right out of the Book of the Damned, that holding spell. You'd be needin' yer beloved Masters to break you out of it."

Sarah returned the cold smile with a venomous one of her own. "Oh, that is also a pretty unpleasant option for you, because when they come to rescue me..."

"If..." Rowena corrected.

Sarah smiled. "Like I said...when they come to rescue me, you're gonna wish that it was me that took you out. Bitch."

Rowena leaned forward. "Witch. That's 'witch', dear. And a good one." She sighed nonchalantly. "But I've been called worse. And I've dealt with yer Lucifer before, and that was before I had the help of my Mega-Coven."

Sarah blinked. "Wait...your what now?"

Rowena cocked her head and smiled genuinely. "My Mega-Coven."

Sarah stared for a few seconds, then burst out laughing involuntarily.

"What?"

"That...is the...stupidest...thing I've ever heard," Sarah answered between gasps. "Now wonder you guys are losing so badly..."

Rowena frowned. "Why does no one like the name 'Mega-Coven', it's not as if it isn't accurate...and catchy..."

Sarah's laughter died down to chuckles, and she shook her head. "Just kill me already, if that's what you're going to do. Anything'S better than hanging out here with you lame-asses. Michael and Lucifer will bring me back, anyway." Her eyes went suddenly cold as she regarded Rowena. "Get it? There's literally nothing you can do to me."

Rowena returned the look. "Oh. Oh dear. Don't be so sure of that."

Silence hung heavily in the air until the door to the cell opened and two figures made their way in. Sarah looked up at them, and her expression soured further.

"You two. Oh joy. Yeah, witch. You were so right. This is much, much worse."

Crowley smiled at the Herald. "Oh, we got the pleasant one, didn't we Castiel?"

Castiel watched Sarah for a long time, then moved closer and knelt down in front of her, meeting her eyes.

"What happened to you? You're just a teenager. What caused you so much pain to make you like this?"

"Don't even try it, douchebag," Sarah snarled. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Spare me your dime-store therapy and sentiments." Her eyes snapped open. "'Cause both you and me know, it's just to make _you_ feel better, isn't it? To make you think that you _did_ something. That you really _tried_ to 'fix' me. But you know what? You don't give a rat's ass about me, angel. Not really. I'm just another project for you. Another chance to show how much you care about the poor, pathetic humans that 'need' your help, right? Well...guess what? I'm not broken. And I certainty ain't asking for your help," she hissed, sticking out her chin defiantly at Castiel.

Castiel met that gaze and shook his head, standing up. "You're wrong about that."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Bull. This is just another ego-trip for you. Just like everyone else in the world."

"No, Sarah. This is, unfortunately, all about you. And that's what you can't see."

Sarah grinned in defiance. "What can't I see?"

"Yourself," Castiel answered evenly. "That's the one place you can't look. Because you gave up. You allowed the evil that exists in this world to win. To twist you. And that makes you sick. And afraid. Afraid that it can twist you even more. Until you can't look at yourself in the mirror anymore. It's already easier for you to think that everyone is out for themselves. That that's the way the whole world is – you _just_ said it. Selfish. Like you've allowed yourself to become."

Sarah snorted and started a sarcastic slow clap.

"Oh, bravo. The mansplaining award of the year goes to..."

Castiel snorted back. "You don't want my help now? Fine. But can you try to remember something for me?"

Sarah tilted her head. "Oh, I can't wait..."

Castiel turned around and spread his hands out to the side. "You are free to make your own decisions. Obviously. You don't need to hear that from me...also, obviously. Just remember this; when you do want my help, I will always be there to give it, no matter how much you hate me for that."

"Oh, thanks. I'll try to remember that when Michael and Lucifer are gutting you."

"OK, that's enough of that," Crowley growled, moving closer. Sarah smiled up at him. Crowley beamed back evilly.

"You know, due to a recent circumstance, the preferable method here right now would be to destroy you."

"Crowley..." Castiel grumbled in warning.

Crowley shrugged. " _But_ , unfortunately, we're on the side of...well, angels, not to put to fina a point on it. It is, however, fortunate for _you_ though, you little brat. He's helping you whether you like it or not."

Sarah frowned. "I'll be sure to send a card."

"You do that." Crowley answered sharply, turning away. "But a thank you card is not something that we'll be needing from you to let you go."

"Let me go? Oh, let me guess what you'll be 'needing' then...information? Layouts? Weaknesses?" She smiled:" Well, sorry. Nope. No deal. I think I'll just wait."

Crowley leaned closer. "Oh, I'm sorry...were you under the illusion that you had a say in the matter? Well, let me clear that right up for you then, shall I?" He leaned back and looked over his shoulder. "Mother?"

"Yes, lamb?"

Crowley closed his eyes slowly in annoyance, sighed, and re-opened them. "You figured out a way to keep her from using her powers, yes?"

"Of course. That's why we're all here enjoying the conversation now, isn't it?"

"Do you think that you could find a way to isolate her power from her so that it would be possible for someone else to access it? Take it for their own, so to say?" He paused and glanced at Castiel, who was watching Crowley carefully. Crowley sighed and raised his eyebrows. " _Without_ killing her...?"

Rowena frowned. "In principle, yes."

Sarah's sarcastic smile began to fade. " _Take it_...?"

"But Fergus, you'd need a vessel. Someone prepared by Michael and Lucifer to be able to wield that power. Yer talking about Angelic and Demonic power there, on the scale of an Archangel and a Greater Demon. That's a trick that I can't pull off."

Crowley grinned, staring straight at Sarah. "Oh, no worries, Mother. We've got the horse right here."

The door opened and a lean, young figure walked through. Jesse framed the doorway and smiled apologetically at Sarah. "Sorry kid. Game's up." Sarah looked up at him, and all pretense of defiance fell from her like a sheet, her face going pale.

"You...no...you _can't_..."

"Actually, yes, we can. We figured that out just recently that your Herald power is a two-way street. So you see, Sarah, darling, you're about to be completely removed from this little chess-board of ours. You'll just have yourself to rely on from here on out." He paused and looked mockingly like he was considering something. "Let us know how that works out for you when we're through, ok?"

Sarah stared at Crowley and swallowed hard, then looked back at Jesse in a panic.

Castiel caught her as she sprung from her bed, flailing and shouting. With a grunt, he sat her back down and held her shoulders tight. She was shaking and crying, angry and fuming.

"Hey... _hey_!" Castiel shouted to get her focused back on him. "You're going to live through this. Take it as the gift that it is."

"Oh _sure_!" she screamed back. "And all I'll be afterwards is powerless, meaningless, dumb-ass plain old Sarah!" She struggled some more and her head sunk. "I wish you'd just kill me..." she muttered in defeat.

"Well, tough. No." Castiel grunted, stepping back. "What you do with your life afterwards is entirely up to you. Free will. It's life's greatest gift.

Sarah shrugged and let out a noncommital bark of laughter. "Yeah. Thanks. For _nothing_."

Castiel watched her for a while, then turned away slowly. "Yeah. Well...you're welcome, for what it's worth," he said as he left the room.

Sarah snorted. "He's such a dumb sap," she mumbled half-heartedly. "No idea what it's like to be normal. Powerless. Nothing."

"That's where you'd be wrong...well... _again_." Crowley said, leaving the room as well. "Spent quite a lot of time like that, as a matter-of-fact. And while yes, he's a dumb sap, he's literally the only thing keeping you alive right now." He paused, his forehead crinkling in consideration. "So...what does that say about you, then?"

Sarah closed her eyes and curled up on the bed, turning away.

Rowena glanced at Jesse and shuffled out as well. "C'mon lad. Let's see what we can do about getting you that power back."

The door closed with a metallic thud. Sarah flinched, and began to cry, her body shaking uncontrollably.

* * *

 _Where did he come from_?, the Hunter to Eileen's right typed into his smartphone. Eileen felt the buzz, frowned and looked down. She shot him a look and shook her head. Better to observe and report before asking rhetorical questions.

Her and her team had been assigned with patrolling and observing the area around the New York Portal to keep an eye out for any changes to it's status; more specifically, to see if there was any way through it.

They had tried literally everything that she could think of. And while they had seen a few late-coming groups of the Faithful slip right through to whatever Eden Michael and Lucifer had cooked up on the other side, they could not repeat the maneuver.

It was if the Portal knew who was waiting on this side of it, and accepting only those loyal to the new Gods.

She had set up a base camp around 58th Street near the Cemetery, but far enough back from the entrance so that any pilgrims to the area wouldn't get spooked or alerted to their presence. Observe and report. It had been nearly a week.

And then this guy had shown up about a half hour ago.

Strange wouldn't even have begun to describe him. He was of average height, tan, but built solidly, lithe and muscular, visible even under the long reddish-brown duster that he wore. His boots were leather and worn, and she had the impression that he carried some type of weapon under that duster...something big, like a rifle, but she hadn't gotten a good look at it, even with the binoculars. She had taken a snap shot of his face with her phone and sent it back to Garth here at the East Coast HQ, but there had been some kind of weird delay getting any kind of answer. There had been an incident at the base, but they weren't giving her any details just yet.

She pulled up the picture again and was once more drawn towards the man's dark eyes. There was something... _old_ there. While the man himself looked to be only in his early to mid-thirties, his eyes told another story.

Eileen felt a chill down her spine. She had only seen that look before on supernatural beings. Long-lived ones.

Her phone buzzed and she opened the messaging app. It was Garth. Finally.

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Holy crap, Eileen, you found him...he came to you..._

 _Eileen frowned in confusion, then typed._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Um, Garth? CONTEXT?_

 _There was a pause before Garth answered._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Jeez, yeah, sorry. OK...this guy is seriously bad news. He broke out of quarantine here just a little while ago. Went right through Leon, Kinsey and about twenty guards doing it._

 _Eileen felt her stomach drop...'_ _Went right though_ _...?'_

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Is everyone OK?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Shockingly, yes. He just seemed to want out of here. Then he came straight to the Portal, huh?_

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _ID?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _They called him the Roman. Something Gabriel and Crowley had cooking. No details to us grunts. But once Gabe saw that photo...hold tight, he's en route to your location now, with Kinsey, Leon and David. They want him back in a bad way._

 _Eileen frowned._

 _ **EastCoastIrish:**_ _Garth, shouldn't we see what he's doing with the Portal here first? He came here for a reason, right?_

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Not my call, Irish. Yours either. Hold tight for the Cavalry and await further chaos._

 _Eileen shook her head in frustration and looked back through her binoculars at the Roman, her forehead crinkling in consideration._

 _'_ _Went right through_ _' Kinsey and Leon. That would have took some serious mojo._

 _"_ _Captain...look!" one of her guards hissed. She had been looking in his direction and had read his lips and saw that other members of her team reacted to his speech. She slapped his arm sharply and immediately held a finger to her lips, then jabbed her finger at the smartphone she was holding._

 _He stared for second, then reached for his own smartphone and jabbed frantically at the keyboard._

 _ **EastCoastIrish_3:**_ _Activity, Captain. The Portal is activating...from the other side! Look!_

 _Eileen's head shot up and she brought the binoculars back to her eyes, watching the Roman, who was also now staring at the Portal roughly thirty feet from him, She swept the binoculars towards it._

 _The Portal was pulsing with light, the speed of the pulses rapidly increasing until it became almost a solid light. She saw two figure silhouetted in that light begin to walk out of the Portal, their forms and features resolving..._

 _"_ _Oh holy_ _fuuuu_ _...", Eileen gasped. She saw her team tense up as well, ducking down behind cover and scoping in with their rifles._

 _Yeah, like_ _that'd_ _do any good_ _..._

 _Sweat immediately broke out on her forehead. "Call this in! Now!" she shouted. Screw keeping quiet. Those two would know they were there irregardless. She instead watched through her binoculars as they walked calmly over to the Roman, who was now standing stock still, his hands clasped behind his back..._

 _Near whatever weapon he's got stashed there_ _, Eileen thought._ _Idiot_ _..._ _what's he thinking_ _...?_

 _Her phone was buzzing frantically in her hand, and she tore her gaze away to glance down on it. Garth had obviously gotten the verbal warning from her team._

 _ **HuntersDen:**_ _Michael and Lucifer are there?! Holy shit, Eileen, get the hell OUT!_

 _She frowned, looking back through the glasses. They were just...talking. The Roman nodded and slowly, his hands came back up out from under his duster._

 _The two Gods walked over to the Roman and each one touched him on his shoulders._

 _They all vanished._

 _She began typing frantically on her smartphone as her team stood up slowly and shakily from their blind, some of them looking ill._

 _Not good...where were they going_ _?_

* * *

There was no alarm. Rowena was walking back to cell with two members of her Coven and a couple of Pagan Gods that had happened to be in the area , the Book of the Damned tucked under one arm when she saw the three figures standing outside of the warded door leading to Sarah's cell.

Dean and Sam...no...what _used to be Dean and Sam_ turned their heads slowly towards her.

"Well, hi there. You have something that belongs to us," Lucifer hissed dangerously. His eyes drifted to the Book. "Two things, actually, it turns out." He shrugged, the gesture somehow appearing alien and unnatural to Rowena in Sam's body. She instinctively clutched the Book to her chest.

"This...this location is Warded...how did you...?"

Dean... _Michael_...sneered at her. "Oh please." This seemed strangely all too familiar to Rowena. The same sarcasm. The same contempt. Her heart raced in fear. "Did you honestly think that could keep us out? That we didn't know where to find you? You are merely a nuisance. Pests to be removed at the time and place of our choosing."

The third figure stepped out from behind them, an ancient, but shining Roman gladius in his hand. "Where's Gabriel?" he asked calmly.

Rowena's eyes widened. "Gabri...Gabriel...? He's not here."

The Roman frowned and inclined his head slightly to the rear towards Michael and Lucifer. "You promised me that he was with them..."

"All in good time," Lucifer answered. "We'll get them all, eventually. Like a bunch of cockroaches, these people. But they cant hide forever."

Castiel, Crowley and Jesse came barreling into the hall, skidding to a halt beside Rowena, their eyes also wide in shock.

"Speak of the Devil..." Lucifer whispered, a sarcastic grin on his face. "So...let's do this, shall we?"


	7. Mousetrap

**Mousetrap**

 _A delicate trap, carefully spun_

 _To bind the fly (innocent or unaware)_

 _In a net as strong as a chain or a gun..._

 _…_ _.Trapped in the path of its own wrath, by overconfidence_

 _drowned and undone_

 _-_ Spiders, Delmore Schwartz

Crowley smiled. Lucifer's own smile wavered.

"Mother, I'm afraid that I haven't been _completely_ honest with you," he said, never breaking his stare with Lucifer.

"Well, no shock there." Rowena answered dryly, still slinking back away from Michael, Lucifer and the Roman, clasping the Book of the Damned tightly to her chest.

Castiel cleared his throat. Crowley looked at him, raised his eyebrows in mock seriousness and nodded. "Oh, of course. I apologize, Castiel. We. _We_ haven't been completely honest with you." Castle nodded in acceptance and turned back towards the invaders, his chin raised defiantly and a small smile of his own appearing on his face.

"What the hell are you two so happy about...?" Michael growled. "I snap my fingers, and you're both sub-atomic particles." He raised his hand and smiled. "Bye."

He snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

Michael's smile faded...a look of concern beginning to replace it. He snapped his fingers again.

Again, nothing.

His smile disappeared.

"Brother..." he hissed in warning.

Lucifer raised his hands and thrust them forward into the air, as if he were releasing a volcano.

To absolutely no effect.

His eyes widened in fear.

He attempted to move forward, but found himself held fast. He stared at Michael, who also tried to move. Michael stared at his limbs in disbelief, then back at Lucifer, shaking his head.

"What...what have you...?" Lucifer sputtered.

"You know, I would have expected more from you two," Crowley said, in sarcastic seriousness. "I would have, well, me personally, asked, 'Why is it all of a sudden we can see exactly where our two arch-enemies have been lurking for over a year?'" Rowena glanced at her son and her lip twisted up in smile.

"You let my Wards down, didn't you?"

Crowley nodded. "Oh, only a little. A flaw. Something that would appear to be a weakness, to individuals that considered themselves Gods. Gods who couldn't get past their own hubris in thinking that it was their 'overwhelming power 'that had allowed them to be so omniscient, even in the presence of magical warding."

"That's where you're mistaken," Michael growled. " Because we _are_ the New Gods, you little worm. We wield the power of the Creator Himself. And believe me, whatever you've done here, it won't take us long to break through it." He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, concentrating. The walls of the hallway shimmered and the floor shook a bit. He sighed contentedly, his eyes opening. "I can still feel it. It is just a second or two away..."

"Try again," a woman's voice said from behind Castiel, Crowley and their group. Three women entered the hallway, one young and blond, carrying a clipboard, the other two dressed in medieval-style hessian robes, one middle aged, the other indeterminably ancient. "More like, as long as we have you here in _our_ Realm, you will _never_ access it fully, oh Ambassador of Paradise."

Michael winced sarcastically at the appellation. "The Fates."

The oldest one nodded. "Appointed by God to ward his very Creation, life itself, Michael. We are powers as old as He, and, like Death, are outside of His scope of control, so to say." She lowered her eyes dangerously. "Every Faith in the Universe where life exists speaks of us; Birth, Destiny, Death. We control these aspects of God's Creation, and we are it's caretakers."

Michael's gaze of hatred did not waver. It remained on Clotho, unblinking. "But you are neutral. Why help them?", he asked, his eyes flicking to Castiel and Crowley, full of disdain.

"Because you have unbalanced that neutrality," the middle aged Fate, Lachesis replied. Michael shifted his gaze to her. "Your actions threaten to break down the barrier to the Darkness, to the Old Ones, the Elder Gods, and wipe this Creation from existence."

"You don't think _we_ know what we're doing, is what you really mean," Michael hissed. "You were all too willing to help our Father start his War and fight the Dark, but His sons...?"

"You are too reckless," the younger Fate, Atropos answered. "Your Father was careful. Balanced. You seize power for power's sake. Create an artificial war with the Darkness for your own glory, to outshine your Father. To surpass His achievement."

"So it's you that have stolen this power from us," Lucifer replied.

Atropos tilted her head. "Not stolen. Michael is correct. It still exists. It is still yours. But we have imbued this Headquarters with the aspects of our Realm. All dimensions exist here, including ones where you two don't even exist."

"So, you've simply diluted it," Lucifer answered rhetorically. "We just need to break out of here to access all of it again."

"Which you won't be doing," Castiel broke in. "Brothers, this needs to stop."

Lucifer grinned. "It is an elegant trap. Not one you made, I think." He let the question hang in the air.

"Artemis, actually," Crowley answered. "She thought that capturing one of your Heralds might be incentive enough for you two to make a personal appearance." He glanced at Jesse. "And judging about what we just found out about how their power works, she was more right than she knew."

"Three," Lucifer hissed, grinning.

Crowley cocked his head. "Excuse me?"

"Us _three_ to 'make an appearance here'. Learn to count, Crowley, or these little miscalculations of yours will be the death of you. Cartaphilus, please kill the three witches holding us here, if you please."

The Roman wordlessly advanced.

Jesse raised his hand and a burst of energy struck the Roman, disintegrating him on the spot. The gladius bounced to the ground.

"Well, nice try," Crowley grunted. "Now, where were..." he stopped, frowning.

The pile of dust and smoke where the Roman had once stood began to spin up into the air, forming the outline of the former Roman soldier. In less than a few seconds, he stood there again. He reached down and picked up his gladius, taking a deep breath, fixing his gaze on Jesse.

Crowley spun towards Atropos. "Can't you...what was that? 'Diffuse' his power as well?"

Atropos looked at her two sisters with wide eyes. They both stared back, and shook their head slightly.

"He's a...he carries the Word of God...it keeps him alive...we _can't_ undo that..."

"Oh great," Crowley grunted. "Plan B?"

Castiel raised his Angel Blade and stepped in front of the group, pushing them back. "Plan B. Go get it. I'll hold him here."

Cartaphilus lowered his gaze and brought his sword up into an attack position. "Will you now?" he growled.

Castiel gritted his teeth. "GO!" he shouted. Crowley, with a moment's hesitation, nodded and ran from the hall, Rowena and the Fates following closely on his heels.

Castiel barely got his Blade up in time to block the Roman's attack.

The two swords screamed in a protest of metal on metal, fell apart and flashed back together again.

Castiel spun and danced, surprised as Cartaphilus seemingly answered every attack with little effort, pressing his own attack flawlessly. Castiel had been a soldier in Heaven's armies for a millenia...

His concentration lagged for only a split second, then a heavy booted foot slammed into Castiel's chest, sending him crashing into the wall. The Roman followed in snarling, his sword arching towards Castiel's neck...

It came to a clanging halt in the air. Cartaphilus grunted in pain and surprise and fell back. A heavily armored man stood in the hallway, his plate mail a dark red black. Fiery eyes burned from beneath a full helmet. His longsword seemed to burn as well.

"Who the hell are you?" The Roman snarled.

The hulking form shrugged. "Ares. I heard a fight," he answered in a voice that sounded like it had been coming from deep inside a volcano. He raised his sword in a salute towards the Roman. "I can't stay out of fights. Call it a weakness."

The Roman yelled and charged forward, the ferocity of his attack forcing the Pagan God back. Suddenly, another weapon spun into the fight, this time an ornate spear that shone with inlaid emerald spun in like a scythe. Cartaphilus intercepted the strike, but was forced back.

"Guan-yu, at your service," the massive Chinese man wielding the spear saluted, his eyes twinkling. Several other Pagan Gods then began to fill the hallway, wielding weapons and forming ranks ifacing the Roman.

Cartaphilus glanced back at Michael and Lucifer, a look of doubt crossing his features.

"They _can't_ kill you, just delay the inevitable," Lucifer snarled. " _Show them_."

The Roman nodded, his brow furrowed and sweating. He turned slowly towards the mass of Gods and nodded.

"Well then. Who dies first?"

He charged.

The Gods met his attack, weapons cutting through the air, turning the narrow hall into an abattoir.

Limbs literally flew off of the Roman's own body, and several times his head as well, in the space of less than minute, only to re-form out of the air as he pressed forward.

The Gods wounds began to accumulate. Rapidly. And they did not heal.

Several of them were left bleeding and dying on the floor as the Roman pressed them through the door that led into the hallway out into an open warehouse floor. Light poured in from an open gate, and several onlookers gaped at the brutal melee that was taking place. A few Hunters fired well placed shots at the Roman, but they had little to no effect, making him grunt at their impact, but he still continued to fight.

Cartaphilus began to gain some breathing space.

"Only the End can stop me!" he screamed in a maddened roar, his voice echoing against the metal walls in the airplane hanger-sized room. "I will lay you all down at my feet and wade through your entrails!" He found himself locking blades with Castiel again. He snarled and pushed the Angel back. "No one to save you now, " he breathed heavily, slashing wildly now, ignoring his pain and rapidly closing wounds. "Time to die."

"How utterly appropriate," a calm, icy voice answered from behind him, seeming to cut right through the chaos of the fight and clang of metal, and hang in the air like a dark curtain.

The Roman stopped, his chest heaving. Castiel, sweat pouring down his face as well, looked over the Roman's soldier and nodded.

"About time, Crowley. What took you so long?" he asked breathlessly.

Crowley shrugged. "He was eating lunch."

Cartaphilus turned slowly around.

Crowley and Rowena stood there. She had her arms crossed and a smug look on her face. Standing next to Crowley was a gaunt, thin, tall ,man in an loose-fitting, but otherwise impeccable black three piece suit. He had slick-backed hair and a pallid complexion. His right hand bore a large silver ring with a white stone that shone like an opal. He regarded the Roman as if he were studying something in a museum; curiosity and a muted fascination on his face.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Cartaphilus snorted, turning towards the man and spinning his gladius lazily through the air.

The man gave him a thin, sickly smile.

"Oh, that's right. You wouldn't know me, now, would you?" He sighed in exasperation. "God, sometimes, can be very short-sided when He is dispensing vengeance. I, my over-ripe young centurion, am Death."

The Roman snorted. "Death. Certainly. And which of these dead or dying religions manifested you?" He snarled and rushed forward, his gladius held in front of him. He thrust at the man at point blank range.

And hit empty air.

Off-balance, the Roman stumbled forward, quickly regaining his feet, his head swiveling around rapidly, trying to locate his opponent.

"I am manifested from no religion. I am Death. I am a force and consequence of Life. The older Brother of the Fates, and the Reaper of all of Creation, even of God Himself," the man said calmly, appearing next to the Roman.

Cartaphilus swung his arm around.

The thin man caught it effortlessly and held it fast. The Roman's eyes widened in shock.

"I was on vacation, you see. I let that little whelp Dean Winchester believe he had destroyed me." He let out a sigh and shook his head. "They needed to be taught a lesson. They meddled with the forces of Creation and released the Darkness, well, one manifestation of it, at least. Nearly destroyed everything."

He twisted his hand around, and with a cry of pain, the Roman was driven to his knees.

Death leaned down towards him.

"Sound familiar? Now Michael and Lucifer are causing the same havoc. Absolutely ruined my vacation. My Sisters called to me for aid." He shrugged. "Ah well. One cannot avoid the inevitable." He leaned closer. "Speaking of which..."

His left hand came towards the Roman's forehead, fingers splayed open like a claw. Cartaphilus' eyes widened in genuine fear.

"But...but...you cannot...it is God's Will...His Word...it is infallible...!" he sputtered.

"I just told you, you sad, tortured thing, I do not answer to God," Death grimaced, and clasped his hand around the Roman's face. "I think...that you will thank me...in the end..."

There was a flash of light and Cartaphilus screamed in pain. With an animal-like snarl, he wrenched himself free of Death's grip and stumbled towards the warehouse door. Death watched him go, the look of curiosity deepening as the Roman sprinted out of the door and away from them.

"Interesting," Death said, rubbing his chin.

"You're going to let him _go_?!" Crowley yelled in disbelief. Death looked towards him calmly, and Crowley involuntarily backed up a step, looking away. "I mean...you could have killed him..."

"I believe so, yes."

"You 'believe so'?" Castiel asked joining the small group. "You're not certain?"

"God's Edict is not without a certain amount of consequence and power, my dear Angel," Death answered. "In our brief period of contact, I saw that unravelling this particular binding would have serious repercussions."

"Such as?"

"Well, for one, it might inadvertently actually trigger this Apocalypse that everyone seems so keen on starting," Death replied evenly, slashing his hand through the air dismissively. "I will have to contemplate this. I will give you my decision on this matter at another time." He fixed his cold gaze on Castiel and Crowley. "In the meantime, you have other things to see to, do you not?" His eyes flicked back towards the hall where Michael and Lucifer were still bound, a thin smile appearing on his lips. "Maybe you had better see to them?"

Death strode away in the direction of the Resistance's cafeteria. Castiel and Crowley wordlessly watched him go.

Finally, Crowley let out a breath and looked around, grimacing. "My word...how many do you suppose...?"

Castiel followed his gaze.

Bodies of Pagan Gods, dead or dying, literally littered the warehouse floor. Castiel sucked in a breath.

"Did you honestly believe springing this trap on Michael and Lucifer was going to be easy? Or cost us nothing?"

"Most of my plans are designed that way, Castiel, yes."

Castiel grimaced. "Not this one." He raised his gaze towards where Michael and Lucifer were being held. "Now comes the hard part."

"I still don't see why we can't just kill them," Crowley shrugged.

"Too powerful, it would unbalance everything," Castiel replied curtly, walking towards the hallway. "Like I said, now comes the hard part. Heaven give us strength." He walked through the door.

Crowley sighed. "Convince them to surrender. Oh, this'll be a blast," he mumbled to himself before squaring his shoulders and walking in after Castiel.


	8. Unbalance of Power

**Unbalance of Power**

Lucifer raised his eyes slowly to the group approaching them.

Castiel and Crowley were leading the small crowd, naturally, Jesse by their side. with the three Fates clustered around them. Rowena and some Chinese deity that had a respectable amount of power were bringing up the rear.

"Here they come," he mumbled to Michael. When he received no reply, he glanced over to look down at him.

Michael had his eyes closed and his fists clenched. His brow was furrowed in concentration. Occasionally, the room would shake and waver. He was trying to reconsolidate his power, concentrate it back to him so they could escape. Lucifer frowned.

It was, technically, simply a matter of time to do this, a matter of physical law. So much energy spread out over so many realities and dimensions needed time to do what Michael was attempting. It wasn't impossible per se...

He looked back up as the small group stopped in front of them.

…..it just that there wasn't any time left.

He sighed.

"OK, so here we go, right?" he said tiredly. "You get to play all high and mighty, and I do my 'snarky-thing' and we talk it all out? Isn't that how these things go?" His eyes blazed. "Do me a favor, just do the smart thing for a change, either let us go now or try to kill us. The other option is boring as hell. And believe me when I say this; coming from me, that's saying a lot."

Castiel shook his head. "Killing you, even if it is possible, is not a viable option anymore. You've stolen too much power for yourselves. The vacuum that would be created would destabilize all of Creation."

Lucifer cocked his head. "Sooooo...you're going to _let us go_? Wow. I didn't see that one coming. Well, thanks...anytime you're ready and all..." he smiled sarcastically.

"Cute," Crowley replied. "But it's option one, I'm afraid. And if you think that you can out-snark me, you've got another thing coming."

Lucifer let out a deep breath and looked at the ceiling. "Oh fine, then. Explain to us all the error of our wicked ways and then we'll all have a loud and constructive conversation, and then maybe a group hug and then on a whim go out and eat rainbow jellybeans and get an Expresso-latte enema together and sing Kumbaya..."

Crowley frowned. "Ok, maybe we're even on the snark level after all."

Lucifer smiled.

"What's he doing?" Jesse asked, looking at Michael.

"Oh, he's drawing his power back to himself so he can atomize you," Lucifer answered. "Then I imagine he'll want to atomize those atoms, and so on and so on." He turned his head to the side. "You are such a disappointment. Why I ever named you as Antichrist, I'll never know. You are no son of mine."

"Thanks," Jesse answered with a genuine smile.

"There are realities and timelines where you had an actual, physical son, Lucifer," Atropos said, busy scribbling on her clipboard. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Thank your lucky stars that it's Jesse in the one that we're in. You wouldn't have liked the other one very much."

Lucifer snorted. "You think I don't see other dimensions as well, 'Attie'?" He raised his eyebrows at her, waiting for a response. She gave him a half-smile and went back to her clipboard. "This has been a set up from the start," he continued. "I know all about that other kid of mine." His eyes fixed on Jesse. "And believe me, I agree with you there, Atropos. Jesse _is_ the lesser of the two evils."

Jesse shot Lucifer a withering look.

"Michael," Shang-Ti said quietly. "Michael..."

Michael opened his eyes slowly. "Something you want, old man?"

Shang-Ti inclined his head. "Yes. Stop this foolishness."

Michael smiled and shook his head. "Father used to respect you. I never really understood that."

"Why is that?"

"Because you are inferior to Him. To us."

Shang-Ti smiled gently. "Am I now? You are certain of this?"

The room shook.

"You think you can take me?" Michael growled dangerously. "You have but a whisper of my power."

"Raw power is not everything; Michael. As a warrior, you should know that better than most."

"You think you can outsmart me? Outmaneuver me?" Michael answered hotly, voice rising. "Look at where you are. Your Realm is practically in ashes. Your power waning to practically nothing. I have taken the Power of Creation itself, as well as the Darkness, and wield the stuff of the Universe. I've already won. All that's left is the clean-up. You are nothing but a remnant of the past. Old refuse. Refuse that I will enjoy throwing out."

"And what have you done with this allmighty power, Michael?" the old man asked calmly. "Created a Paradise?" He shook his head. "How is this new? How is this innovative? You are like a small child, trying to walk in his Father's footsteps, imitating what He has done and trying desperately to surpass it, regardless of the damage that you do along the way."

"Damage? What damage? The _Earth_?" , Michael chuckled mirthlessly as if at some private joke. "You can't possible be so simple as to tell me that the world that the humans had built for themselves was anything that you would consider functional...they _destroyed_ what Father had created for him, you know that as well as I do."

Shang-Ti shook his head. "What God created in Eden was balanced and pure. But even He saw it was unsustainable. You are only now beginning to see what He saw; that humans need to be allowed free will to allow Creation to flourish. To be imperfect and flawed. To flounder and sometimes fail. You want to try to keep that from them, to control their will and dreams with nightmares born of Darkness. Gain power in that way." He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "You bring war upon us all by inviting the enemy into our home." He opened his eyes and tilted his head, studying Michael, realization coming to his eyes. He nodded sadly. "And you know that already, don't you?"

Lucifer looked away. Crowley noticed that gesture and leaned back in surprise.

"You are actually _wanting_ to start a war with the Darkness?" He looked in Lucifer's direction. "Are you insane? You have dealt with those forces before. You know them better than he does, Lucifer. You can't be seriously on board with this..."

Lucifer looked at Crowley with contempt.

"He... _isn't_ ," Castiel whispered.

"Shut your mouth," Lucifer hissed. Michael's head whipped around to Lucifer.

"Brother...?" he growled.

Castiel took a step closer, eyes wide. "You don't agree with this either, do you?" he asked, eyes locked on Lucifer's. "You understand what a war with the Darkness would mean if you are defeated."

"There will be no defeat!" Michael roared. "Please, Brother, tell him!"

"It is as I explained," Shang-Ti added. "He is obsessed with outdoing his Father. He would start from the very beginning...from the War of Creation itself."

"Because we _can_ do it better," Michael rounded on him, hissing. "No insane power balances, with the Darkness locked behind a fallible Gate, seething and writhing and raging. Instead a _balance_ , all of the power of Light and Darkness working together...no more war, no more conflict, peace, finally, true peace...!"

He looked at Lucifer, eyes pleading. "Brother, this was your plan as well. Tell me that that has not changed...tell me that you still _understand_..."

Lucifer looked back and smiled calmly, almost apologetically. "Brother, I am on your side. But...look at what we've _built_...look at what we've _accomplished_...is a war really necessary...? I mean..." he paused, sighing, and running a hand through his hair. "Like I said back in the palace...our forces are depleted...we can't even create any more Heralds. Maybe...maybe we've already _won_ , Michael. These jackasses can't touch us there...the people we brought over are loyal to us...we've won, Brother..." He paused and smiled. "In fact, I am sure that we have. We've already _won_...isn't that...isn't that _enough_?"

Michael stared at Lucifer for a long time, his eyes scanning back and forth in sheer disbelief.

"You were always...such a _coward_ , Lucifer," he whispered, his voice quivering with rage and sorrow.

The room shook more violently then, Michael's eyes narrowing, his forehead creasing in intense concentration. Lucifer's eyes widened.

"Brother no! Michael, _please_! It isn't like that...don't do this!"

"Too late..." Michael whispered, the room starting to seemingly shake apart.

"What is he doing?!" Castiel shouted.

"He's collapsing dimensions!" Atropos shouted in undisguised terror. "He's ripping them down completely to access his power faster!"

Castiel paled. "But...but that will..."

"Michael, STOP!" Lucifer screamed, grabbing Michael by the shoulders. " _LISTEN TO ME_!"

Michael looked up at Lucifer, his eyes wet with tears, red and strained. His face shook in tune with everything around them, reality itself seeming to tear itself apart. " _No_ , Lucifer. I am _done_ listening to you. I tried once, and Father had me cast you out. I tried _again_ , out of love for my brother, and you have, once again, _betrayed me_..."

Lucifer shook his head. "I have done _no such thing_ , Michael! I am trying to help you, help _us_..."

Michael smiled. "Perhaps the Universe was ever truly meant to have only one true ruler."

Lucifer's hands dropped from Michael's shoulders, his expression dumbfounded.

"Goodbye brother," Michael whispered.

There was a ripping, tearing sound, and the room filled with light and a horrible whining sound, and then, suddenly, it stopped. The shaking, the light, the sound...it was all abruptly, jarringly, gone.

And Michael along with them,

Lucifer stood stock still, shoulders slumped, staring at the spot where his brother just was.

"Lucifer, there was...nothing you could do...he's gone completely insane..." Castiel whispered.

Lucifer sighed with exasperation. "Can you people just... _stop_. LECTURING. ME. FOR. FIVE. STINKING. _SECONDS_?!" he roared. He collapsed to his knees and buried his head in his hands. "I tried, Michael. I really _tried_ , " he whispered to himself. "Was that all it was to you? Ruling the universe?" He stayed quiet there for several seconds before moving his hands away from his face and standing up. He turned slowly towards Castiel and Crowley and smirked, shrugging. "Well, that was just _great_ , huh? Now what, oh wise sages?"

"Lucifer...I'm...I'm sorry...", Castiel answered hesitantly.

"Not as sorry as you're about to be..." Lucifer muttered, looking around.

"What is that supposed to..." Crowley began.

He was interrupted by a deep, moaning bellow that came from outside of the warehouse HQ itself, making the very ground vibrate with it's tone. It sent cold chills up all of their spines.

"Boss, BOSS!" a Hunter ran into the hallway, screaming at Castiel and Crowley. "You have to come see this!"

Wordlessly, they hurried after the frantic Hunter as he was racing towards a crowd of the Resistance fighters, who were gathering around the main entrance and looking up at the sky.

"What's happening?!" Jesse yelled as they raced outside.

"It's...bad," Castiel answered back loudly, but strangely calm, shaking his head.

"What do you mean, ' _bad_ '?!" Jesse yelled.

"It means...that when Michael so recklessly gathered his power to himself by destroying dimensions...he maybe wiped out a large chunk of Creation when he did it..."

Jesse shook his head, not understanding. "So...what does that mean?"

"It means that nature abhors a vacuum..." Castiel replied dryly. They ran past the group of Resistance members, pushing some to the side to get through, and skidded to a halt on the dirt and scrub brush road leading into the Headquarters building.

As one, their eyes went skyward.

Dark, rolling clouds covered the entire sky, with alien purple and crimson mists swirling in them. Forms moved within them. Massive, curling forms reminiscent of tentacles, but the size of skyscrapers. They reached down through the clouds, moving closer to the surface of the earth, waving gently in the air, almost gracefully, but the feeling of utter dread and doom they exuded was palpable.

" _Thine Mother is come for you, my babes, Shub-Niggurath crouches above your crib! She reaps all her birthed to her bosom! Drink from me and be withered and die, mine brethren!_ " a screeching, grating woman's voice boomed from the clouds. The clouds writhed and began shooting out towards the ground in the nearby city of Los Angeles. In horror, they watched them retract, holding human forms in them, and even from a distance, they could hear them screaming.

"It means the Old Gods are here," Castiel murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It means Michael's Creation war is here...whether we want it or not."


	9. The Elder God

**The Elder God**

Cartaphilus turned his head slowly to the rolling, writhing sky. He watched as the arms of the Old One reached into the city on the horizon and lifted out screaming bodies. It listened to it's voice intone it's screeching wail while it killed and feasted. Shub-Niggurath, it had named itself.

It was the End.

That was enough...

Wasn't it?

He shuddered and closed his eyes, wiping a hand over his face. He pulled it away, staring at his empty palm.

He could still _feel_ the touch of Death on his face. Cold. Final.

But not _peaceful_...

He had spent two-thousand searching for, and working for his demise. His eyes turned back to the sky. This. This is what his goal was, wasn't it? An End to God's Creation. An Apocalypse from which there was no turning back, no recovery. A true End.

Why had he run?

Death _himself_ had him in his grip.

And all Cartaphilus had been able to do was run.

Why had he run?

He slumped and trudged onwards - in which direction, he did not know. Or care. To what end, he also did not know or care. He began to hear the sounds of battle and looked back cursorily over his shoulder.

The Angel and some of the Pagans had taken to the sky, in a futile attempt to stop the Elder God.

He turned away and shook his head slightly. It was impossible. The Old One would prove too powerful. He knew that. Soon, it's brethren would come, and the world would fall.

Cartaphilus stopped and trembled. He sunk to his knees.

 _Am I not relieved_?, he thought, breathing deeply. _I can finally rest_.

His mind raced, then settled upon a single, glaring, painful point. A thorn in his mind's eye.

The Lion...God still walked the Earth.

That Lion, God, still _lived_.

He looked back at the chaotic sky and frowned.

 _Would it...be enough_? C _ouldn't the Lion just re-create everything that was torn down_?

He felt strength returning to his limbs.

 _No, no, it was_ not _enough,_ he answered himself _...the Lion still lived_...

 _God_ still _lived_.

He felt that all-too familiar anger and rage build up inside of him. His fists clenched as that constant companion in the form of a thousand years of injustice and pain came rushing back to him. Pain that God had inflicted on him.

Pain that He was _personally_ responsible for.

A never ending torture that he did _not_ deserve...punishment that did not fit the crime. And it became very clear to him why he didn't want to die. Why he had fought against the gentle release of Death's touch. Why he _couldn't_ die...

 _At least not yet_...

 _God still lived_.

And He hadn't suffered nearly enough.

...at least not yet...

* * *

Castiel flung himself headlong at one of what seemed a a small part of a hundred-thousand writhing tentacles that swarmed through the air. He struck it with his Blade and the creature screamed it's high-pitching wail, loud enough to shatter human bones.

" _It burns! The Children of the Lightbringer are here! I will send them from my hearth and cast them out into the cold!"_

Castiel dodged as a large group of tentacles shot out towards him, pressing his speed to it's limit, which was saying something...when an Angel flew, it was faster than the human eye could follow, but the sheer _size_ of the thing forced him to flee at breakneck speed through the air.

He registered the battle around him as he sped away; the Pagans were throwing everything they had at the Beast, but to little or no effect. They fell from the sky, crushed and broken.

He gathered himself and clenched his jaw as he turned into a halt in mid-air and launched himself back into the fray.

 _I hope Crowley is having more luck_ , he thought grimly. _Or this is going to be a very short fight_.

* * *

"Well, are you seriously just going to sit there?" Crowley growled. Lucifer looked up at him from the conference room chair and narrowed his eyes.

" _That_ ," he said, pointing dramatically towards the Headquarter's entrance, "is a fully manifested Elder God. It took a army of Angels with _God Himself_ at it's lead to take down one of those in the first War of Creation. What do you propose that I do about it?"

"So, the answer is 'no', then."

Lucifer shrugged in mock apology. "Like I said - what do you want _me_ to do about that?"

"Oh, yeah, this is working out _great_ ," Leon growled from the corner where he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

"The traitor speaks..." Lucifer said lowly, not looking at him.

Leon snorted. "You're one to talk, you lyin' son of a bitch. You never told me who you really were, and what Castiel and Crowley were really up to. You think I would've said 'yes' to the _Devil_ if I'd have known?"

Lucifer looked at him then, smiling, "Oh, Leon, you and I both know the real answer to that...don't we?"

Leon hesitated and then finally looked away, his face a mixture of raw anger and shame.

"Lucifer, stop that. You and I both know how that works..." Crowley said warningly.

"Oh, how is that, then?" Lucifer replied, swinging back to Crowley.

"He was vulnerable, and a child, and full to the rim with justifiable rage. I've been in 'sales' long enough to know that is a lethal combination, as you no doubt knew as well. " He looked around the room, where Jesse, Kinsey and David also had taken cover from the battle outside, instead deciding to try to come up with another tactical solution to deal with the Old One in the sky. "You used all of them. The only one that never had a choice in the matter was Jesse..." Crowley, looking suddenly pensive, stepped closer to Jesse, studying him. "Hmmm."

Lucifer raised his eyebrows. "'Hmmm'? 'Hmmm', what?"

"Jesse...", Crowley answered slowly, thinking. "Back in the Realm of China's Western Paradise, he was able to destroy..."

" _Disrupt_...", Jesse corrected him.

"Yes, of course, please excuse me, _disrupt_ one of their kind..."

Lucifer closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. "That was one their generals...a high-level commander, sure, but no Elder God..."

"Yes, but that was when Jesse had only the power of _one_ Herald to work with..." his eyes flicked around the room. "What if he had _more_...?"

Lucifer opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows, following his gaze. "You...want me to _kill_ all of the traitors in here to send the power back to Jesse? Hmm...bold move. At tad heartless, but hey..."

Crowley smiled at him patronizingly. "Very funny. The answer to that is 'no', as I am sure that you are too well aware. Instead, I am wondering what would happen if you were able to transfer that power from them to him... _without_ killing anyone in here."

Lucifer tapped his finger against his chin and twisted up his face in exaggerated concentration.

"Huh...what are you up to, Crowley...?"

"Yeah, what _are_ you up to, Crowley?", Leon echoed, tilting his head to the side and glaring.

Crowley smiled tightly, staring intently at Lucifer. "Would it work?"

Lucifer stopped tapping and nodded slightly. "It _might_...I mean, the power we used to create the Heralds, the final versions, anyway, is far more powerful than it was to create these..." he waved his hand dismissively at the teens in the room and scowled. "...starter packs. But it's the same. Jesse concentrates that energy by his nature...and by the fact that I happen to be walking the Earth. He might be able to hurt that thing...but fully disperse it? Even with my help?" He shook his head. "I am doubting this." He shrugged. "But, seeing as it's the only shot we've got..." He stood up and held out his hands in front of him.

"Whoah, whoah, WHOAH!", Leon exclaimed, stepping back and holding his palms up. "Waitasec, OK?" Lucifer frowned and looked back at Crowley.

"What's on your mind, Leon?", Crowley asked quietly. "This is your ticket out of this mess. Your get-out-of-jail-free card. You having second thoughts?" He looked over at Kinsey and David, who also looked rather dubious about the entire situation. "Are any of you?" When he received no answer, he nodded to himself and sighed. "OK, I get it, this is a lot of power to let go of, and up until now, it was keeping you 'in the game', so to speak..."

"It isn't just the power itself, Mr. Crowley," Kinsey interrupted. " And it is also more than being powerful enough to contribute to the fight. It is a question of safety as well..." Her eyes flicked out towards the entrance. "What chance do three un-powered teenagers have out there against that?" She leveled her gaze at him. "This might as well be a death sentence."

"You would have the same chance as everyone else that we rescued and brought here to the Resistance," Crowley replied. "You won't be on the front lines anymore, that would be too dangerous, but we'd be able to keep you _safe_..."

The room shook with a roaring screech from the Elder God outside. It was followed by a series of ground shaking booms as it's limbs slammed into the ground. The wails of pain from Gods and men came shortly after. Bits of concrete broke off from the walls and ceiling, landing in their hair and clothes.

"...relatively safe..." Crowley finished, wincing slightly and carefully wiping the detritus off of his suit. He shrugged. "OK, kids, look, sales pitch is over. You are, naturally, totally correct. There _are_ no guarantees for you after this. And we're asking you to give up your only means of defense up until right now. That's got to be scary. I get that. But please consider the alternative..." he asked, letting that hang in the air amidst the sounds of the continuing carnage outside. "You heard Lucifer. This is just the first of them. And if we can't stop this...we might as well lie down and die right now. This is our only shot..."

"...an unsure one, at that," Kinsey added.

Crowley nodded. "I don't disagree with you on any particular point. I would just like to add that if we _don't_ try it, this game is over, right here, and right now. So, I am asking you...begging you, really, to reconsider."

"Crowley, we're wasting _time_ , Lucifer hissed. "I can just take..."

"You know, for a divine being, you are _completely_ obtuse, Lucifer!" Crowley retorted, whirling on him. "In all of your recent experiences with humanity and the powers that be, can you honestly say that you haven't once considered the value of letting people act of their own bloody accord? To exercise their own free will?" He narrowed his eyes. "We might not have much of a chance with this plan here, but I know, no...I _guarantee_ you, that if you try to force that power out of them, this will fail."

Lucifer cocked his head. "You know that for a fact now, do you?...how?"  
"Because in this fight, the means need to justify the end, or we're finished," Crowley whispered. "Don't ask me how I know that, I just do..." He turned back to the teenagers, who were watching him carefully and held out his hands palms up.

"It's your decision. It hasn't _always_ been your decision," he added casting a withering glare at Lucifer,"But it is now. So. What's it going to be?"

* * *

Castiel grunted as a tentacle finally managed to make contact with him. It hit him glancingly on his back, but it was enough to roll him through the air at least a hundred yards and knock the breath out of him. He saw stars in front of his eyes and managed to dart to the side just in time to miss another ripcord-like appendage that attempted to impale him. He struck at it with contempt, drawing another wail of pain and cry of complaint from the horrendous creature.

" _Why does it burn us? We only wish to nurture our children! I send them all only to sweet, delicious oblivion!_ " it screamed, letting several people fall screaming to their deaths from a few hundred feet above the ground. Some of the remaining Gods were able to catch a few of them, but the rest crashed, broken, onto the hard Earth.

"Nasty thing," a voice behind Castiel exclaimed. He whirled around and fought a moment of momentary confusion as he saw Sam flying in the air next to him. It took him a second to fight past the battle fatigue and pain and remember...

"Lucifer. What, are you finally done hiding down there?"

Lucifer smirked. "Some of us aren't so eager to rush to our deaths, Castiel. Maybe you should ask yourself one day why _you_ always are." He shook his head. "But no, Your partner had an idea. I'm here to help carry it out."

"Idea? What idea...?" Castiel began, then followed Lucifer's gaze downward to the entrance of the Resistance Headquarters.

Jesse stood there, glowing with sheer power.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Lucifer...what did you _do_...?"

Lucifer held up his hands. "Hey, it wasn't my idea, like I said, it was your partner..."

Castiel snapped his head around to Lucifer. "You know damned good and well he doesn't have the power to do this. This thing will kill him, and if it doesn't manage to, the strain alone of trying to fight it will..."

"That's why _I'm_ here...", Lucifer interrupted, nodding at Castiel. "And while you're at it, you might consider lending a hand, instead of slashing at this thing like an ant trying to cut down a redwood. All your Will, all your Grace, we need to disperse this thing...send it back through the Void..."

Castiel shook his head. "Lucifer..." he hissed.

" _I know_!" Lucifer shouted back. "Do you honestly think that you have to lecture me on the logic of this? But we've _got_ nothing else...this is, like it or not, our last stand!"

Castiel stared, then shook his head clear. "OK, but if we're going to try this, we need all of our weapons..." With that, he disappeared.

Lucifer turned his head around wildly in all directions. "Wait...what do you mean ' all of our weapons'? Castiel? Where are you _going_?!" But all that was around him was the cacophony of battle. He sighed and began to raise his hands slowly to his sides, glowing blue and red energy swirling around him. On the ground, Jesse mirrored his actions.

Shub-Niggurath screamed.

* * *

Jesse found himself floating in a deep Void. To describe it as Darkness would not be accurate, because things seemed to _move_ in it. Vast, intelligent, malicious and hateful things...hateful that he had intruded on them, hateful that his presence showed them for what they truly were.

A form began to become clear to him. Jesse frowned. It looked like a slightly heavyset woman. She wore a torn gown and carried something like a baby in her arms.

Instinctively he knew what it was...

Shub-Niggurath. As she saw herself.

She was short and stubby, but when she walked, she seemed to tread upon points of lights. They winked out as her feet met them. Jesse shuddered when he realized what they were.

 _Stars, she was extinguishing stars_...

He shuddered again when he saw the 'baby' that she held in her arms. It was malformed and red, with patches of dead black skin. It's head lolled lifelessly and it drew no breath. Shub-Niggurath smiled down on it and tickled it's nose.

"Shhhhhhh," she whispered, looking up maliciously at Jesse. "It's sleeping..."

Jesse tried to meet her eyes and found that he could not. He felt himself...sinking...sinking into a miasma of swirling Darkness...felt it _eating_ him...pulling the Light right out of him. He began to panic and breathe heavily... _this was a mistake_... _this was such a_ huge _mistake_...

"Jesse!" he heard a voice in the Void. It was Lucifer. "Jesse! Don't let it define you. This is a test of wills. _See it_ , Jesse. Look at it! See it as it truly is! Then you'll be able to change it! But you have to look!"  
Jesse shook his head. He didn't want to look at that horror again. He knew with a distinct certainty that that would drive him insane. So much easier to just drift away...

"JESSE!"  
His eyes flew open.

Shub-Niggurath stood there, watching him carefully, still smiling.

"We were all asleep...until _you_ came along," it hissed. "You woke us up...and now what? You don't want your Mommie?"

Jesse felt himself…. _shifting_...with a start of horror, he realized that he was becoming that dead, diseased thing that she held in her arms...  
 _nonononononononnNONONONONO...NO_! he screamed to himself, forcing himself, bit by bit, his body screaming with pain and effort by the sheer concentration of it, back into himself...his _true_ self...

He took a deep, raspy breath, and found himself on his own two legs again.

"Naughty, naughty," Shub-Niggurath whispered warningly in the Darkness. A few hundred stars winked out when she spoke, her breath coming out like poisoned smoke.

" _Look at it, Jesse_!" he heard Lucifer's voice scream from somewhere that sounded far away...much more farther away than before...so alone...he felt so alone... "See it for what it is!"

He squinted at the monster, saw for a brief flash it's face and body explode into a writhing mass of tentacles, then re-form into the 'mother'. It paused, it's eyes full of malice.

"That is very, _very_ NAUGHTY!" it screeched. "Time to be punished."

It dropped the baby to the 'ground' where it landed with a sickening, wet splat, and her arms began reaching for him...reaching...spanning worlds, galaxies...reaching...reaching...

Jesse screamed and focused on the thing's face again, and once again, it turned into the dark, writhing thing. It screamed in frustration, then reached for him again...

Jesse strength was almost gone. He flagged and slumped. He just didn't have enough power...if only he had more...power...

There was a flash of Light...pure Light... Shub-Niggurath screamed in genuine pain this time, her form wavering. Jesse looked up in confusion from his knees all around him, saw the ground, the _actual_ ground of the entranceway outside of the Resistance where he stood. His head turned upwards.

The tentacles wavered and swung wildly, sometimes disappearing. He saw a form in the air swirling wildly with Angelic and Demonic energy, and knew it was Lucifer. There were also two forms standing next to him, glowing with power as well, but pure, powerful, bright Angelic power.

Castiel...and...

"... _Gabriel_?" Jesse croaked, his throat dry and raw. "Gabriel, is that you?"

"Not now, kid," Gabriel grunted, smiling weakly down at him. "Cas here remembered that there _was_ a cavalry, so let's not waste it, OK?" His head turned back up to the thing in the sky. "Now, _rip that thing apart_!"

Jesse squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, sending his full energy into the midst of the Elder God. He could feel the buffering effect of the Archangel Gabriel joining him, and that energy rocked the creature more than any of the other forces being worked against it.

" _The GATE_!" it screamed. " _THE GATE IS HERE_!"

It was all Jesse could do to keep his will focused on breaking that thing, scattering it.

The sky went dark, and there was a sound like thunder. Then things began pelting the ground like heavy raindrops, but they were icy, void-like and cold. They scampered, hid, ran, dissolved...

And then they were gone.

He opened his eyes.

"Wow," Gabriel said, sweat pouring down his haggard face. "That was something, huh? Let's never do that again, OK? Deal?" He stumbled, and a barely standing Castiel managed to grab ahold of him and keep them both upright. Lucifer half-landed, half-crashed a little ways away from them, stumbling before sinking to the ground, beaten and out of breath. He looked up at the three of them.

"That's one for the history books," he said breathlessly, smiling madly. "That is, if there _are_ any history books after this..."

Jesse became aware of another person standing behind him. He turned his head to look at him.

Crowley.

"Not bad, gentlemen. Not bad." He smiled down at them. Jesse saw Leon, Kinsey and David standing a little ways off in the Headquarter's entrance. They looked exhausted, but immensely relieved.

"We live to fight another day," Crowley finished, turning back to the entrance. "Let's make it count."

* * *

The Roman watched curiously as the broken, dark thing that had fallen to the ground when the Elder God broke apart crawled miserably over the ground. Everything it touched withered, the earth itself turned dark. He swore that he could _hear_ it somehow, wailing, mewling, pleading in pain.

He knelt down and held out his open hand on the ground.

"Come to me," he whispered. "Come to me, and be safe."

The thing...hesitated.

Cartaphilus waited breathlessly. Then the creature moved forward, touched his hand...

It sunk into his flesh, and he felt, with no small degree of satisfaction, the common hatred, the common malice for the Lightbringer rush through him. The creature that had entered him felt it as well, and he felt a kind of comparability, a shared purpose. He also sensed... _confusion_... _why do you not die when I touch you_?, the Dark thing asked him.

"Because I cannot die," the Roman whispered. " _He_ has forbidden it, much to what will prove to be His misery...come to me," he repeated, his eyes rising to the grounds around him. "And together, we will bring this Universe to it's deserving End."

Hundreds, then thousands, of the snake-like creatures emerged around him, crawling, slithering, inching painfully, inexorably, faithfully, towards him.

And the Roman known as Cartaphilus smiled.


	10. Too Many Apocalypses

**Too Many Apocalypses**

Michael, breathless, let his fist clench the strong, green, fragrant grass that he had landed on.

His earth. His New Paradise.

He was the Creator. Him and him alone.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Lucifer betrayed him.

 _Again_.

He laughed softly to himself. What had he expected? Lucifer's goal was always (must have been...) only to use Michael to escape the Cage. Use him and go back to the literal Hell-Hole that he had built for himself and rule there uncontested.

Michael opened his eyes and looked around.

This, however, this was _his_ Kingdom, and it wasn't bleak or stark, or boiling over with sulphur and flames. It wasn't soulless, lacking a God.

He _was_ that God. And he would keep it safe.

He took a deep breath and stood up, barely noticing the group of humans that had gathered after he had landed, looking concerned. He gave them a weak smile and a wave, and began to make his way back to his palace.

He had work to do. There was a fight coming. A good fight. A Holy Fight. The Darkness would be destroyed.

He smiled to himself. Lucifer and his new 'friends', Castiel and Crowley - oh how his blood boiled at only the very thought of their names – had just proven that point.

They had vanquished an Outer God.

This new Creation War _was_ winnable.

But it would be Michael and his Heralds that would win it.

He just had to gather his strength.

* * *

Judah shuddered.

Something had come through. Something foul. Something that was the antithesis of life itself. It made him retch.

He stared at his hands. The power of Creation...the power that Michael had stolen...it was slowly returning. It was a matter of Will. It had always been a matter of Will.

And nothing in the Universe could match Him there.

He stood on shaky legs and looked around him.

Several people stood there in a marble, mostly intact courtyard, exhausted, and in various stage of battle-fatigue. They wore antiquated Grecian armor, but Judah was not fooled – this was armor forged by, and made for, the gods of Olympus themselves. It was not old or quaint. It would be more than a match for even the most advanced of modern weaponry.

How little mankind had grown.

He smiled bitterly.

"A thought, Janus?" a voice said from beside him. Judah, remembering himself, affected the mannerism of the god's face that he had assumed.

"Nothing, Ares, only that that was the fifth assault in less than a day. Their attacks are increasing in frequency."

Ares frowned. The god of war removed his bulky helmet and set it on top of a marble plinth. "And yet, miraculously, Olympus still stands." He considered Janus carefully. "Or perhaps...not so miraculously..."

Judah felt a chill. Had Ares guessed? It was too early...his power was not yet returned. He had to keep hiding here for the moment...It was, naturally, no coincidence that Olympus still stood against the assault from the Darkness. Disguised as Two-Faced Janus, Judah had been aiding them...but he thought he had been careful enough not to reveal himself to the pagans...

"What do you mean, my Lord?" he asked, smiling up, looking as beat as he actually felt.

Ares' face was unreadable stone. He finally stopped staring and looked away. "I would swear that you were Hercules himself, Janus. I had never guessed that you, of all the gods, would be so...unrelenting in battle."

"Careful, my Lord Ares, I may take that as a compliment."

Ares huffed out a deep breath and waved his hand dismissively. "Take it as you will. But the fact remains; without you here, the Halls of Olympus would be overrun with the Shadow a week hence. Your...deeds will not be forgotten."

Janus laughed. "Oh come now, My Lord. As much as you are the God of War, I am the God of Beginnings and Endings, War and Peace, you may say...this fight is as much mine own province as yours, if you'll forgive the implication or infringement."

Ares snorted. "You do not overstep yourself, nor misstate the obvious, Janus. It is I..." he looked back at him again, his dark eyes like coals. "...it is I that have perhaps underestimated you. I wish to convey my respect is all. For a worthy warrior."

Janus nodded his head slightly in a bow, and Ares took that as his cue and walked away. Then Janus let out a slow, alarmed breath that he had been holding.

If these gods figured out who he was, that would bring Castiel, Crowley, Gabriel and Creation knew what else down on him, and he had been weakened.

He simply didn't have time to deal with their shortsightedness and scheming.

He had War to start. To truly start.

And all he needed was a little more time to gather his strength.

* * *

 _Awareness_...rushed through Cartaphilus, but it was, ultimately, his own...

Because the Forces that were _whispering_ to him from the Void, they had no awareness, they had no Form...

He would give it to them.

He would find their Names...they whispered them to him...he would give them their Form...

 _Nodens, Vorvadoss, Cthullu,_ _Yog-Sothoth, Yidrha, Ngyr-Korath, Azathoth, H'chtelegot_ h,...and so many other Names...they _whispered_ to him...

He would bring them here. He would gather them _all_ here.

And watch God beg.

And watch God scream.

And watch God die.

* * *

"You look terrible," Castiel said, placing a hand on Jesse's shoulder. Jesse looked up and smiled weakly from the army cot where he was lying.

"And you need a shave," Jesse answered. Castiel blinked. "One of these day, we'll get back to something resembling normal, Castiel."

Castiel smiled back. "You sound like a soldier now."

"Well, if anyone should know..."

Castiel nodded. He looked around the warehouse, which was slowly trying to recover from the recent assault. There were wounded everywhere, and not just from the Resistance. The people that had been ripped into the sky from the Outer God were being brought in from search and rescue teams shuttling back and forth from nearby Los Angeles. Castiel grimaced. Of those, only a very small percentage had actually survived, but there were still more than enough to overcrowd the triage and hospital areas. In the short time that creature had manifested, it had caused unthinkable amounts of damage and death.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Jesse asked.

Castiel shook his head. "It's...this is the Apocalypse."

Jesse watched him, then nodded slowly.

"Yeah...yeah it is."

"Just not the one I expected."

Jesse frowned. "Does it matter?"

Castiel didn't answer for awhile, mulling it over. "I...suppose it doesn't, in principle," he finally said. "But there was a certain pattern that I thought would happen, a certain way I thought events would unfold. I find it...more difficult to deal with outside of those parameters."

Jesse smiled knowingly. "You understand humans more and more all the time, Castiel."

"What do you mean?"

"It means, that's what humans do...they look for patterns. Plan things out. Deviations from those plans scare us. Make us wary. Sometimes makes us smarter, more capable. Makes us come up with new tools to deal with new challanges." He shrugged. "Sometimes it makes some of us weaker, if we give in to that fear. Happens. Unfortunately."

"You're telling me...not to be afraid?"

Jesse lay back down and smiled, holding his hands over his chest. "No, the opposite. By all means, be afraid. But deal. Find a new solution. It makes you stronger."

Castiel watched as Jesse fell back asleep. Then he got up and walked to the cafeteria.

A thin gaunt figure wearing a black suit sat in the corner, facing a window that looked out at the California hillsides. A plate of spaghetti sat in front of him, covered in mounds of Parmesan cheese.

"Hungry?" he asked as Castiel sat down across from him. He turned his pale face towards him and smiled. It made Castiel shiver involuntarily. "The fare here is actually surprisingly good."

"We have a few good cooks in the Resistance," Castiel answered, the n shook his head. "But no, thank you, I'm not hungry."

"But you see, I think that you are, Angel," Death replied, twirling his fork in the noodles. "But maybe yes, not for food." He took a bite from his fork and closed his eyes slightly in pleasure.

"No."

Death opened his eyes, a smile indicated there. "Very astute. Now, what is it you'd like to satisfy your appetite with? Conversation? Knowledge?"

"Your brothers."

Death's eyes widened. "Interesting. I did not actually expect that. What about them?"

Castiel leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped together. "This is the Apocalypse, isn't it?"

Death's eyes danced. "You tell me."

Castiel's jaw clenched. "Do you intend to help us, or don't you?"

Death spread his hands out in front of him. "I'm here, am I not?"

Castiel simply stared at him, unblinking.

Death sighed and chuckled to himself. He ground a bit of pepper onto his plate and took another bite. "The answer to your question isn't a simple one, as I believe you've deducted."

"Then tell me."

This time it was Death's eyes that locked on Castiel, unblinking. Castiel felt a momentary wave of doubt.

"Please," he added.

Death smiled languidly. "Better. Now, as I said, as you've surmised, to call these events ' _The_ Apocalypse', isn't entirely accurate."

Castiel nodded slightly. "Because the Four Horsemen aren't manifested."

Death nodded. "Again, correct. But it is possible. There is one particular agent that is attempting to bring about this particular chain of events to pass, and have a proper, Biblical, Apocalypse."

Castiel frowned. "It isn't Michael...he wants to fight the Darkness. That has nothing to do with..."

Death waved his hand in the air. "Of course it isn't Michael." He turned his head quizzically to the side at Castiel. "Please don't tell me that I have to clarify that to you now, do I?"

Castiel shook his head no.

"Good. No, the agent that I am referring to is the Lion of Judah..."

"God."

Death nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes, whatever He is calling Himself these days...God. He will now actively seek out my brothers and attempt to bring about His vision of the End of Times, rather than the one Michael or the Roman seek."

Castiel frowned. "The _Roman_...? He's looking for his own version of the Apocalypse? I thought..."

"...that he would want the Biblical one?" Death interrupted, then shook his head. "No, my dear Angel, at least...not _anymore_. I saw his soul when I touched him. I saw what he truly wants."

Castiel felt a chill. "What...what did you see?"

"I saw that if you were to have a choice here as to which End of Times disaster that you would wish to address, then I would take my focus from Judah and Michael, and instead go and find that Roman. Or things could become more...", he twirled his fork in the air, looking away. "Messy."

Castiel got up without a word and headed for the door.

"It appears that your so-called 'quest' to prevent the Apocalypse by securing the Key, was a rather short-lived one, I'm afraid. I'm sorry for that."

Castiel stopped, but did not turn around.

"What are you talking about? We have Gabriel, and Cain. And we know that the energy that comprises that Gate can harm even the most powerful of those forces of Darkness."

There was a long silence, and Castiel began to turn back towards Death's table.

"Don't think that they don't know that, Castiel. They are cunning and intelligent in the most malignant way that you can imagine. You have secured the last remaining elements of the Gate. The one thing that is keeping them from coming en-masse."

There was another long silence.

"The Roman has a new purpose. And new...friends. He will be coming for Gabriel and Cain.

I suggest that you prepare yourselves."

Castiel turned his head slightly to see Death watching him from across the room.

"For what, exactly?"

Death smiled humorously, his face full of pity.

"Eden was lost once. It will be lost again. Such an perfect world is an imbalance of power that was...never meant to last. You ask me what is coming? I'm afraid that you will have to look to Michael and Lucifer's New Paradise for the answer to that. And see Michael as it's sad result."

Castiel felt his entire body go numb.

* * *

"Master? You have a visitor."

Michael looked up from his table and frowned. The Herald Jones and Trevor were in the doorway. He closed the book he was reading. He had been in the palace library for the last few days, researching all material on the first War of Creation he had salvaged from the wreckage of Heaven's archives, preparing himself.

"I wasn't expecting anyone." He cocked his head. "Who is it?"

"He said...that you would know him, Master," Trevor answered. "Should I let him in?"

Michael frowned in anger. "Why would you listen to some random stranger requesting an audience with me? Have you taken leave of your senses, Herald?" he grunted, getting up and walking over to Trevor. He grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, peering into his eyes...

….and froze.

Trevor had been he and Lucifer's double-agent, placed next to the Old One Hastur's vessel, Joshua Vandecourte, posing as his minion. Lucifer had worried that the Old One's influence might corrupt him, but Michael had dismissed that idea...

…..until now.

The darkness of the Void stared back at him.

Michael hissed and threw himself back, drawing his sword. It burst into Angelic flame.

"Look at what you have wrought here," came a voice echoing out of the hallway outside. "Most impressive." Metal boots echoed on the stone floor. Michael recognized the voice.

"What do you want here, Roman?!" he yelled, backing away from the two stone-still Heralds, whose only movement came from their cold, lifeless eyes, which followed Michael around the room.

Cartaphilus, but also something _not_ Cartaphilus, walked into the room between the two Heralds. Michael nearly dropped his sword when he saw him.

There was just so much... _nothing_...swirling around him, investing him with it's power, _eating_ him...

"What...what...are..." he heard himself sputtering.

The Roman smiled like a cat that had corned a mouse.

"Why, only what _you_ wanted, pretend-God. You wanted a war with us...well, here we are..."

"I'm...I'm...not ready...," he heard himself talking as if from very far away...the power...the sheer _power_...

"What is time, to the Timeless?" the creature, no...the _creatures_ whispered... "You wanted this..."

"No... _nonononononono_..." Michael felt his grip on his sword slick with sweat. His resolve, his own power...they seemed so...small now...is this...was this... _truly_ what his Father had faced? Was this the counter of God? The Power that Creation held back?

How could he have known...how could he have calculated...?

He wasn't... _ready_.

Outside of the palace, the followers and the saved, the worshipers and converted, all that had followed Michael and Lucifer into the new paradise, turned as one as the sound of wrenching, horrible agony emanated from deep within the palace. The great marble walls shattered with a crack and exploded outwards like fine powder. A wave, a pulse of pure Darkness grew from it, reaching, stretching towards the Heavens.

The sun went out, flicked off like a candle against a gale-force wind.

Numbing cold rushed into the complete Dark, and _things_ , moved inside of it...

And the people of the New Paradise screamed, but there was no sound in the Void.

And New Eden...

….fell.


End file.
